and after,

and when he’s done, each time
i grip his shoulders as he moves–
i give up pride. no, i beg him, don’t move
(do not remove your weight, baby
you’re all i have to hold me down as i lay here,
quiet dust)

stay here, stay in this room, this bed
stay in me (please just long enough to blur reason and reality
into hyperboles of intimacy, all i want is)
i want to feel you just a bit longer

& he is reluctant to acknowledge the scene too long
so i dig my stubby nails in hard to make
closed-eye imprints that won’t last on his skin
(too resilient) and then, again
(again, again, oh again)
i let him go.

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