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Conversations With A Naked Ascetic

 
This day is so ordinary it's impossible to find
the ghost of what happened or what we would do
if it wasn't for the night's perfect pitch

for talking about sex. We talk of contentment,
the way you hold me closer when you're close
to orgasm. I listen to staggered breathe,

the stutter of arms and legs and I
want to bite. I want to taste blood attached to flesh.
You understand what I mean, we want

to devour each other but we know we'll never
be complete though it's almost possible the way
you stay inside me just because you can

and it doesn't matter we've finished,
we always start again. We try to explain
what togetherness means, slowly choosing

words to describe what it is we like. You say
I've a gorgeous ass or that my mouth
is so soft because it's made for sucking your cock.

I laugh and say you have the strongest arms,
the most beautiful chest, the best lips I've ever
kissed and still, we haven't explained a thing.

The time you felt like crying came close
to when I said you're a naked ascetic,
someone who sleeps under blankets of leaves

and by day wears only the bark from trees
easily removed when the day is anticipating
the night will witness the love we always make.