I can almost see you through the fabric between us, can almost
feel your warm skin through the cloth. I can feel the wet spot where your mouth
is trying to reach my lips, I can taste your saliva mingling with
with the residue of scented detergent and bleach.
You thrust and I come and it’s almost too quick, I grab your hands
wrap fingers in rough cotton, wrap hands around your body, strain against you
in brief claustrophobia, then I’m done. You’re still moving, and I wonder
if it’s because I can’t see you, can’t really touch you
that I want you so much, if I want you so much because
the only place we can reach each other is through
a single hole in a sheet, this one place we can always connect.