Animal

Photo by Donnie Ray Crisp on Unsplash

In the half darkness

I sleep naked,

your body

wrapped around my body

like a fisherman’s net.

We fill up

the whole bed

with our animal heat

but there is too much

punctuation between us

to ever find that familar

animal rhythm.

I close my eyes

when you masturbate

because I usually can’t shake

the humiliation of never

being chosen.

The room

smells

as if it were

an extension of us

and most nights

you press your face

into my hair and breathe

in my scent

as if it were a drug.

You seem to love me

but not in all the ways

I want to be loved.

I miss you,

not because you are

absent

but because

you are not all there

you are not

in everything

you are half-way.

Some nights

I am so there

that I can feel myself

merging with your pulse

and the shadows

which crawl from one corner

of the room to the other.

In that sinister state

of primal alertness

I want things

to happen to my body.

So I sleep

and I dream about you

and for a little while

it doesn’t make any difference

that it’s just my imagination.

I don’t want

to stand still

forever

I need to be seen,

known, experienced

in order to feel

that I am alive.

Love is not a game

of paper, rock, scissors.

Whereby I am always paper

and you are either

abusing or abused.

It’s about communion

and there is absolutely nothing

unholy about sex.

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