A Quarantine Sex Dream; or This Poem Isn't About You 2
I had a sex dream about you last night.
Is that accurate?
I dreamt I slept with you.
I dreamt I lay with you,
That I shared a bed with you...
Or somebody like you...
At least , it could have been you. I think it was you. It looked like you.
I could feel the full length and weight and heat of your body
Pressed against mine.
I could feel your arm around me with just enough pressure to let me know I was *Being Held*
And held on to.
I felt your warm, damp breath on my ear, my neck, my hair.
You weren't asleep and neither was I
We lay there in that embrace just feeling each other.
It felt sexual but it wasn't sexual
And I wondered if *that* kind of intimacy was a bigger betrayal than sex would have been.
I woke up in the soft light of the sun behind my orange curtains and let that feeling linger.
At some point I drifted back to sleep and this time...
This time you cupped the side of my face in your hand and turned me toward you.
You kissed me - soft - just lips, and laughed a little inquiring about my level of interest.
I felt a pang and a jolt of tears because "interest" was barely a word in my vocabulary of desperate need, my desire for a kiss between us to actually mean something, but I also knew it was wrong... the wrong choice, the destruction of many things, our own possible downfall.
And I didn't care.
I let the lurching of tears carry me back to your lips
And I hungrily devoured your offer
Learning your mouth
And you let me into your heart
And we stayed there.
But still no sex, never sex, just intimacy
Lips and hearts and warmth and pressure
Comfort in all the ways we've longed for
But with each other
Which was wrong.
But we committed to it like it was out last act on Earth, our last rebellion against loneliness, our last stand against emptiness, our Revolution of "I will not go numb, Please, God, let us never go numb!"
And I was yours, and you were mine, and we knew it'd be the end of us.
But it was better than fading away, day by day, in isolation.
I'd rather die in this painful desperation with you, than die in that painful desperation for you.
A selfish dream, yet so thoroughly enjoyable that I think I'll keep it.
I'll sip it like tea over sadness.