he spat in my mouth, twice.
well in actuality it was more like one and a half times.
in the first attempt it caught the corner of my gaping gob and proceeded to crawl
across my cheek, inching toward my ear canal.
as if over par, a look of disappointment and determination flushed his face.
it really didn’t matter much to me.
shot number two was a perfect lob, caught by the back of my fervent throat.
a cough seized my body and the warm flux traversed
through my synapses,
secreting around his *****.
a proper exchange of fluids, so i thought.
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i don’t think i’m very good at this.

an obvious red herring, i reassured him nonetheless.

i mean, i just don’t know if i can. y’know… in the way i feel like you want.

not needing clarification, i asked for it anyway.

i really like you… and like, i really respect you too. it’s not that i don’t enjoy seeing you in that way, or think any less of you, and uhm, i’m just not sure i can do it. i think you’re really beautiful and cool and it’s hard for me to enjoy feeling like i’m degrading you.

it wasn’t difficult to understand his perspective.
not because i could relate, but because it was a simplistic
statistical inevitability.
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i hugged
his face with my ****
his neck with my arms
his thighs with my knees
and kissed the top of his head.
licking the salinous sweat
from my dry lips, i dispensed a:

that’s quite alright.

which may have been
a lie, because i think
i need it.