What You Taught Me About Sex

Sex is is too gentle of a word 

We fucked 

And then you left 

For one fleeting, delusional moment

I thought I might wake up 

Nestled in the concave of your torso

But then you untangled your limbs

From mine

Followed by the all too familiar sound 

Of foot steps walking away

I still hear only yours though

Sometimes I think you will turn around 

Make a home of the 

Indent in my mattress

I think you misunderstood 

When I said I wanted you

I wanted to explore more than just

Your outer casing of rough skin

I am not a virgin

But I’ve never made love

All anyone wanted from me was to be 

A breathing mass of a person

And that’s all I ever gave them because 

I foolishly confused sex for intimacy

I realized there was a difference 

When I heard you laughing 

Through the wall 

You will innocently peel off your jacket 

But that’s all

Still it’s possible to be naked 

With clothes on 

And she will see more of you 

Than I ever will