Doubt

Once
you were between my legs,
and you saw me —
not the man
I pretend to be,
but just me.
“Just look
at how wet you are for me,”
you said.
It was one of the only times
I felt like it was us making love,
and not a hundred thousand lies
between us.
I wept in your arms.

I doubt you remember.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Go ahead -- say something. Anything.