Until You

Hot sweat. Sticky love.
I know there are words for these things,
but only after.
Your mouth open and wet against my flesh.
My body giving and taking.
Breath baited,
like a worm through a hook,
waiting.
I still don’t know how to tell you that my room
is the same as any room,
until you’re inside of it.
How the walls sing,
and the windows shudder –
the way the bed cannot contain itself.
I know there are words for these things,
but only after;
and God, I don’t want you
to leave.

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