Reveals
The Buddha nature of affection,
I drank to enliven
Tepid conversations,
Defibrillate a connection,
A time machine to the moments
Under the jurisdiction of lust,
The season of
Skin upon skin,
Fingers tracing lips, sucking
Her scent from fingertips,
Thrusts encapsulate base desires,

While immature sexual proclivities,
Dance,
In a carnal garden of lust,
Fueled by whiskey sours, ciders,
And joints whose journey from
Grass to flame to ash,
Spread damp thighs,
And fuel
Long nights,
Insatiable thrusts,
Until,
Morning light creeps across carpet,
Warms unprotected toes, her
Stretch elicits a long moan,
And she flings her arm over my chest.

I want to be alone.

Over coffee we discuss
Nothing.
Runny eggs swim around a plate,
Mashed against undercooked hash
Browns, I give her a ride
Home, wondering
If it will always be like this,
A theft,
Of lust from false affection,

We will always
Just take what we can get?
Stealing orgasms from strangers,
The elusive shadow of intimacy,
Haunting,
Through glimpses of past loves,
Flickering,
Across consciousness,
An echo from a fairy tale,
Another life,
A lie.