Wet

Sitting in the bathtub

Notebook on my shaky knees

Translating sex tape moments

Into concrete blocks of desire

Used to build a fortress

Out of fading perceptions of your

tongue

Bubbles pop and bleed on pages

As I wonder selfishly how I can

Describe more ways to shape more bricks

into the length and weight and smell

of your arms when they hold onto

my cushiony silhouette

Never touching behind the walls of darkness

Never kissing more than the fringe of my soul

I drop my legs

Water envelops

The notebook drowns

My hands submerge

My head tilts back

As I touch my own skin the way you once did

I reenact your brawny grasp

Splashing about

Architectural mental recall

Whirlpool

Of last night’s delicious feeling again

You in me

The only cleansing feeling truly worth

Writing about when my pen circles the drain.