Sex returns

It awoke again in my belly, my loins, last night while I waited for the pot to boil

I was thinking of other things, distracted. It took advantage of my inattention.

On the wall buzzed an incoherent fly while warm fingers ran down the inside of my thigh.

I leaned over the stove, let the pot’s breath lick my neck as my hand found the center of the stream

The shock of the nerves, alert as fresh scar tissue.

Blindsided by my sudden lust for it, for you, for us.

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