I’ve been looking through your tumblr
desperately searching for the thing that
I see in you each time we fuck.
That glowing ember, lit behind your eyes
perhaps reflected from the pipe in your hands,
as you blow smoke into my mouth, I can feel
our cells rise together, sharing, tonguing, I—
We have become creatures of the internet
hiding ourselves behind blue screens, hoping
that the space between us will inch closer until
we are virtually sitting on each others laps
never touching, but our minds reaching out
across code and wifi waves, I realize that
I miss touching you, I miss dragging my fingernails
across your breast, going lower, lower, lower…
tonight I looked at your OkCupid account, trying
to figure out if we were more compatible than when
we fucked in the library, uncaring at the windows behind us
I slammed you against the stacks, wondering if that noise I heard
were the books rustling, or if it was that one student
who also uses the carrells regularly, I am still not sure what I heard.
Maybe it was just the movement of your lungs, expelling a single
expletive which is almost as sweet as my name on your tongue.
Every night I lay in my bed across the college we call home,
I wonder how your skin would taste in my mouth, leaving
tracks down to your belly button, a turtle on your ribs,
teeth marks on your hip until you are gasping for breath,
little moans escaping from behind your clenched jaw.
Each time I touch you I break another thing,
a necklace here, a mug there,
I don’t want to break you but I’m afraid I will
but you are not delicate, you are the fire
burning bright behind your eyes
rampaging through you, and I wonder if I will
be the one left burnt, molting, into myself.