i need a short coarse word
that catches the thrill instilled
in overwhelming you,

who shy flower always flush rose
in your first stripped minutes.
raised to hide from all eyes,

but when slowly wound unfold
as what decency decries
embraced inflames and propels

you over the bright precipice
my attentions tease out
of your slick and velvet skin

so we spent the weekend together,
and neither of us wanted it to stop,
but, you know, the world interferes.

not that it ended there for me,
at your car window, outside my place,
because in my own bed, without you
for the first time in what felt like a week,
as i was falling asleep
i could still feel you fucking me
and it was like after a day at the beach
and how the memory of the ocean
keeps rocking you in your bed.

i guess my skin was reminiscing,
and what the skin remembers
is pornography for the deaf and blind