I know you’ve touched other girls the way you’ve touched me.
I try not to think about it,
but it plays over and over on a widescreen behind my eyes.
It’s a different girl each time,
her face always unclear.
The look in your eyes though is always the same.

And I can’t help but wonder
if it's just carnal
or if they’re probing for something deeper.

I’ve seen this silent reel so many times and I ache to hear the words that slip through your lips. Are they screams of pleasure,
instinctual and animal?
Are they whispers dripping
with the condensation of love?
I wonder if you’ve spoken to them
the way you spoke to me.

And then it’s over.
The film blacks right when you finish
and I wonder if you push back her hair and kiss her cheek softly.
I wonder if you whisper in her ear and hold her close.
But I hope to God that you pull on your clothes
and walk out the door.