MOANS

Images passing by,

one and another,

your face of pleasure.

Me, screeching your chest, 

testing your tongue,

licking your nipples.  

There is no reason why

I’m thinking of you

If you don’t make love to me,

anymore. 

How we used to rock…

every recall is a moan.

I’m horney, not at all.

My bed is empty,

just a memory of how it was:

too dirty

too animal

it’s stuck, in my chest,

too inside, too deeply. 

It hurts

because it has never gone.

I still feel it

and I burst into tears.

Despondent, 

I wanna yell, bite, ride you, 

again,

and kiss you on the cheek,

fall asleep

to hook up you,

very hard,

in the morning

and feeling your cock,

too inside, too deeply.

Hugging you

with all the tenderness 

we used to have.