Satin Men

Men of the sheets beckon

with eyes that seem to

look into your soul

and pull at the heat of your

thighs, wider and wetter still

than the river Euphrates

supplying fuel to implanted thoughts

broken dams and walls of resistance

long-since held still by an insistence

on purity, security and (be)longing

to someone who resides in your heart, spirit

household. But those damn men of the sheets

know how to remind of you the feeling when flesh collides

with familiar and unfamiliar collisions of epidermal matter,

it matters not, then, whether s/z/he will stay in the morning

but whether you or not you can last as long as you remember

when your lips start to quiver

and your hips are no longer held firm

by your will power but the sheer power

of his entry

will you moan

in the sweet

sweat of satisfaction

or awaken

in tears of silent,


in the mourning?

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