Ex-stranged

Ex-stranged (26th June 2008, 10.30am)

As I look at you, I cannot imagine
doing those things we used to behind closed doors;
the urge is gone to rid you of your clothes
and take you where I wanted you: bed, sofa, floor
and, occasionally, more exciting places
that I cannot mention without blushing
at the memory of your distorted faces.

We seem ridiculous, tongue-twisted and
distant; we used to be so tactile, while away
hours of naked skin on skin, and even fully
clothed, nuzzling, entwined on the couch when
I came home; your lap was my favourite cushion;
I never pictured us in this alternate future
where any sort of touch is inappropriate.

So much in the space between us has altered;
the thought of taking you in my mouth,
begging you to push yourself into my private places,
crying in pleasure into your shoulder
and biting down, hard, without thinking,
lost in the oblivion of orgasm, drugged,
shuddering and sinking into calm.

She holds your arm, possessively,
her hackles raised against the hug I gave you
as a greeting; the only permissive physical contact
upon such a meeting. She didn’t want to see me;
this, an accidentalness. I cannot imagine
the two of you naked, writhing together the
way we did; I hope you're happy now.