The misadventures of the heart and sometimes, the stomach.


I miss the charade, the running away, the getting caught.

I miss the role play, the tease, the right spot.

I miss the caress, the dampness, the clothes in the way,

I miss the glistening sweat, the weight, the words you say,

I miss the warmth, the way it eases in, the way it fills,

I miss the moans, the sighs, and the way you shudder – and all is still.

I miss the contentment – at the end of what we do.


Funny though. That despite it all,

I don’t miss you.

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