Image credits: Mouth of Man, by Dora Handel

Breathing hard,

we swam in our oceans of skin,

bodies hot,

flesh in flush

you fall  beside me

feigning to be tired.

I close my eyes

and think about the beach

or if it will be you

walking alongside me--there,

with your consequential manhood...

As our Friday night breathing slows,

you get up to towel down;

I let your power dry on me,

but you come and wipe away our sex

as you kiss each place

where you had landed

yet you never consider

my lips...