ignoring everything


You smell like desire
     but that wasn’t it
Your skin is… a sacrament
     but that wasn’t it
You made beautiful sounds when I
licked your beautiful cock
     but that wasn’t it
And you touched me as I touch
     but that wasn’t it,
     not at all

If, holding back nothing, no language, I express
the analogies and abstractions of this consciousness,
your eyes stay with me; you don’t shuffle or shift
or request I repeat or rephrase —
     but that wasn’t it,
     not really

I just thought
it might be good
to sit with you quietly
not even touching
staring at nothing
ignoring everything
but the music

What do you think?

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