He touched the
small of my back when my voice rose with my
passion and heated remarks...
when I spoke to him of
my worlds.
He'd cool me down.
I told him my
fiery insides
the fusion reactor mind that would never settle...
and he'd cool me down
with his lips on my thighs or his beard rubbing across my stomach.
But he never really spoke to me when
my voice cracked
or when my tears really did drip
with that
profound loneliness that sometimes strikes us all
and he never spoke to me when my anger and my passion
really did need someone to caress them.
He comforted me when he thought i needed it, but never when i really did.
either i didn't come across as well as i thought,
or he was never really my friend.
but, damn,
his lips were sweet
and he was warm
and
he kept me happy for a few nights.