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deepundergroundpoetry.com

Canít teach an old dog how to be a rabbit

She came over.  
We did what two people do.  
This evening, under the guise of a massage.  
I had a towel over my eyes the whole time.  
It was nothing more than nerve endings.  
Easy.  

She didnít try to use me in any way.  
I didnít even know what parts of me she was watching.  
I didnít care.
The oil felt good.  
The silence, even better.  
That peaceful journey  
at the mercy of a simple up and down motion  
until my legs were enticed to tighten up a little.  
Until I smiled a little from under the towel  
happy that there were no eyes to look into  
I let my eyes close,  
not sure what I was really thinking about when I came.  
Perhaps it was a rare nothing.  
Perhaps it was just realizing itself. †

She massaged what she had gotten out of me  
in to my stomach, dick, and legs  
while laughing a little.  
And then she left to wash her hands.  
The towel still over my eyes,  
now like one of those soft toys  
that kids with autism canít let go of.  

No matter what your poison,  
at some point, youíre going to have to  
look at the world around you.  
The one you created  
Or allowed to create you. † †

She started talking with me.  
The words felt like broken glass.  
She asked me when I had first noticed her  
as if this might be something more than just a geographical convenience.  
and I reminded myself how truly, madly, deeply  
I just wanted to be alone.  
Or deserved to be.  

But, perhaps it's not quite that simple.  
Perhaps it's more of a wanting  
to experience not wanting to be alone,  
and wondering, now,  why I want to call her back  
and talk to her a little while longer  
Now that she has so easily left. †  
CruelHandedWriter
Written by CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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