Whoa!
We don’t need a safe word
but maybe some ground rules.
There will be no kissing.
Don’t make me aware of my shame
by looking me in the eyes.
Yes, it’s good to see you but…
I don’t care about your day or how you feel,
don’t even start—in fact, let’s not
even speak outside of the long moans and short slaps
of skin on skin that we interpret like Morse Code.
Just take of your clothes
or rather
pull down your pants just enough
for me to slip inside.
Getting comfortable is for lovers—
I don’t want to be misleading.

Stop.
Do not use my pillow.
I refuse to risk waking later
and finding your hair or smelling your scent.

This
isn’t about making beautiful memories,
isn’t about the foundation of something lasting,
isn’t even about the survival of our species.

It’s nothing personal.

This
is about the NOW,
is about giving in to our carnal vices,
is about having something other
than our own hands to bring us to

******. You don’t even have to fake it—
I’ll get mine, yours is not my priority.
However, even if I end up the utensil
to your ******, we will not spoon;
cuddling will just keep you here longer than necessary,
pillow talk violates the rules.

I’m sorry if you thought otherwise—this
is not making love.
The most beautiful thing about tonight
just may be watching you wipe what remains
of me off your lips.

And I apologize again.
Maybe you deserve better but
the sweetest thing I may do is walk you to the front door
or rather
I’ll distract the room mates just long enough
for you to sneak out,
to avoid introductions,
to save you from that awkward moment
when you remember that you
are not my girlfriend, merely

my ***** laundry