My love is made of sticks

Placed in careful succession

Joints fragile because of the diminutive size

I invented this amorous beau

To fulfill my irrational longing

He moves like an old man

Achingly reaching for my hand

I smile furtively with my malevolent mouth

Ducking my head in feigned innocence

When he tries to kiss me

My wooden love

He knows not what he has stumbled upon

As he gazes into my wicked eyes with devotion

I don’t look as I crush his ligneous bones

I hear not his cries of torment

I will be the one to offer my comfort

In the form of glue and soft words

And he will worship me as his savior

As I prepare to destroy him again