Familiarity

Familiarity.
The taste of your mouth.
Your tongue.
And mine.

Stroking the beard on your chin.
My fingers trace its silhouettes.
Strange familiarity.

Wet and warm.
Reminded of how I feel inside.
Your hands.
Your lips.
Your ears.
Your teeth.
Your nose.
Your fingernails.
Your hair.
Your Adam's apple.
Your genitalia.
You.

Explosions in the form of orgasms.
I explode.
No one seems to do it like you do.
Surreal.

But I no longer crave for your love.
I enjoy the pain in the form of fornication.

Don't love me, have sex with me.