His Name Was Innocence
I had dreams, sometimes
About him
always about glass streams
I used to love his company
Or the promise of it,
In my dreams.
Then my eyelids spread apart
And they stroked blissful clouds
As he made me mumble and
Sigh through my words
And blow bubbles of nonsense into the dense air
While lying in his arms
On his chest
In his mother’s bed
Cradling my heart
Caressing my
body
With his hand between my thighs
Rubbing, exploring, sinfully
Touching me
And the throat filling silence
And the sound of his mouth
And the expulsion of breath
And the symphony in his chest
And my love echoing through my body
With his hand between my thighs
And the electricity in my fingernails
And my limp, clenched, guilty, pleasure bond body
Anticipating
The exploration of his hand
Between my thighs
Before then
Before we were there, or I was there, or he was there
Holding me
Closer,
His hand rhythmically
Slithering up my thigh
Allowing me to taste the darkened fruit of paradise
On his mother’s bed
(and my wonder if I was dreaming)
no
before then
I can only remember Innocence.
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