Touch

The mistake, the bruise, the orgasm.

I wish to rub it out,

Sometimes.

To think about that crooked cock

Differently.

The one that unsettled

That was a tacit connection.

We could still touch through him

Could we?

Far apart I brought us closer.

With the rough smooth of skin on skin.

We dont know each other anymore.

You’re just a number in a phone

My phone.

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