Upstairs,
There was a pause.
"Is this just about ***?"
you asked.

Instinctually I was offended.
Is this just about our bodies, you mean?
That my warm rub against yours
is just skin, just flesh on flesh
as we share the space inside one
and around the other.

I permit you
to taste the spit that comes
from the inside,
and gently you give it back,
And I swallow.

This is our exchange
of space and juice and breath
And yes,
with most persons
I watch from the inside, alone;
But I know you
Have tasted your tide
Pressed against your push and
Felt you
Share the space -
really Share the Space -
with me.

More
I want to know you more,
feel you more
that I am driven to this potent nook of intimacy
and hope that this time I will
yet again, be unsatiated.

So we do it again and again
to get deeper
to try to force through out figures
and be more together than
The mutual space inside one
and around the other.

Maybe I am alone.
Maybe this depth is unrequited.
But that is the necessary risk of Life
because in order to create
in order to continue
We all must make love.

I evolve past offense
and look into the eyes that
have seen through me:
"Isn't it?" I respond.