Clothes Thrown Down

17 Sep

Everything becomes harder, more cruel in
dark rooms below street level. I turn
over in this bed to lie on top of you,
burying your face into the pillow, we move
against the sheets-
me lying on top of you-
me inside of you.

These meeetings are always secrets between
us… always whispers in the dark…

Your animal smell makes me feel like I am
lying in an electric jungle. My bristly beard
rubbing against your inner thighs as I taste
you on my lips, everything is touched with
satin in our sexual life, you move
against satin bonds-
me standing over you-
me inside of you.

These meetings are always whispers between
us… putting us together like calendars & sex…

We do not need any to light to work by- we are
proficient in the dark- we know the maps of our
bodies by touch and feel in the hot, sweaty
muskydark. I stop myself slowly never wanting
any of this to end, it feels too good-
the two of us as one-
one of us must be wrong.

Of course it ends with you climbing over me that
last night pouring your mouth all over me your
warmth causing me to bloom only to wither as
your reasons for leaving were confused,
inadequate in the nightdark.
I used to write all night verses for you,
and now you are gone again forever.

I still remember you- in that dark room below
street level- tonight as my candle burns down
to maps of nothing continents.

“Why?” I asked the darkness where you stood-
still there is no true answer.


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