Just Plain Brutal

Just for the torture of it,
I would like to lie next to you
nakedly talking about our lives
and not touching except for our hands,
and with them, anything we wished.
 
Making circles  
with your finger tips  
and I sliding my thumb  
around the perimeter  
of the hole you make  
with your index and thumb.
 
Running my fingers  
along the throat  
of your wrist,  
and cultivating a spike  
of static electricity  
while we talk intimately  
about our lips and spines  
and how our tongues  
can barely keep themselves  
in check  
and how I would like  
to make you dart and twist  
for me  
while you slide your hands  
up and down  
my arm  
in a pulsating plunge  
in imitation  
of what you think  
would most indulge  
my most boosted sensitivities.
 
And we can chatter  
in between  
and torture ourselves  
and see how long  
we can go  
how long we can stand it  
and who can last  
the longest  
without cracking open  
and needing to touch.
 
I know  
that I can go  
at least  
a few seconds,  
but you’re much tougher,  
and maybe  
go all day and night  
and not allow me  
to reach into you  
and lick the phantom kiss  
that drives your pelvis  
into convolutions  
creaming Sunday  
as a bowl  
of smooth aquamarine ice water  
on your naked flesh  
on the island  
of your sand dune  
gasping smiles.
 
runningturtle87
 
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