I think about ****
I think
about ***.

It's that kind of thing you're not supposed to think about
but everyone already expects that you do

It's the thing you hear in whispers
and shouts
which people mask with humor.

It's touch magnified
amplified
yet lately

cheapened.

I think about ***

not the *** of two hot bodies
mixing their sweat

but the *** of exploration

knowing everything about the other person

hands moving slowly
in pitter patters
sifting carefully through limbs and bedsheets.

Incidentally,
there are melanin filled marks all over my body
something I inherited from my mother
on bored quiet days
I wonder
if anybody
someday
somewhere
will knead through all my folds
and count
each
one.

I think about ***

..how another's arms
and fingers feel
tracing lines and curves
hands following the rise and fall
chests beating to the quiet rhythms of exhaled breaths

..how a kiss feels with lips closed
because tongues are disgusting alien creatures
I don't want to think about

(which is kind of funny I guess because *** has that other stranger 'alien')

Incidentally,
my sketch pad smells of oil pastels
my journal's almost filled

I have a math exam next week
a biology quiz tomorrow
I'd sure love some chocolate
ice cream maybe?

I think about ***
but not
too much.