Touched

I’m lying
in a strange bed
captivated by my own
thoughts,
and unable to
carve out the image
of our hands entwined
against these white sheets

all I can see
in the pitch black
are your veins
popped out
as your forearms shake,
and your tongue rips
my will out
in time with
the slaps
of our
sweaty bodies,
and we catch
our moans
in each other’s
throats as
your chest
hair rakes
my nipples
and
your sweat pools
at my belly button

and baby
I can hear your
name in time
with the bed springs
as you shift
one ankle
on your shoulder
and bury yourself
deeper

and I can’t
stay still as
the orgasm chases me,
bucking until you
grab fistfuls
of my dark brown hair
and ride me like
Armageddon was
chasing your dick
and you had to hide

and in a way it was.

Because the world
ended with
quaking ass muscles
and shouts that
sounded like
love used to

and baby,
you have to
forgive me
for not
elaborating further,
because I’m lying
in a strange bed
thinking about you

and my hands are free