It is never real, still it feels real when I carve it out in my mind, not quite a memory of how soft her breasts felt when I brushed against them, how tender her lips tasted when I snuck a kiss, a memory popping up at those moments of most need, the depths of night, the half dreams, dreaming of her around me as I go deep to feel her from the inside out, rocking the boat until – a memory or wish – we come to the edge of sinking.
I have no life preserver to keep me/she/we from drowning. Perhaps
I don’t want one, needing to immerse myself in her warmth until I can’t come up
again, my brain lost in a fog with no lighthouse to guide me back to solid
ground.
Maybe, I want to drown, to lose my way, to no longer be able
to catch my breath. Maybe all I ever wanted was to get lost at sea with no way
of finding myself, with no desire to be anywhere else.
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