No fusion

I
backwards on the black
upholstered bench.
You
on top and
under me
the more than once used towel.
I
try not to think as hard
as you are.
You
pin me down
by our only connection
your blade and my sheath
butchered together
bleeding out our lust
through the pulsing stream
of our seething body fluids.
Again and again we
melt into each other.
Only the hearts
the hearts will not fuse.