Not Touching

A poem I wrote to assuage my guilt after a party.

Promise not to touch you.

Promise not to touch me.

We’ll just lie here, sleep here.

We won’t do anything.

 

Silence, subtle friction,

Bated breath. Holditholdit.

 

Lips, softly, reluctantly,

Rubbing against your chest

Your lips in my hair.

 

Your hand on my hip,

But we’re not touching, remember?

My hand glides up your bare chest

Not touching, not touching

 

Legs entangled, my thigh

At your apex. You move against it.

Subtle friction but I feel it.

 

A soft murmur. “Hey, kiss me.”

And you do.

But only once, twice.

 

I kiss your neck, touch your c**k.

You’re breathing harder.

 

“We can’t. We can’t.”

I don’t believe you.

My fingers rub your lips and

You bite them, lick them, suck on them.

I kiss your neck and

That sensitive place, right beneath your ear.

 

You groan and roll

Pinning me under your weight.

I can’t help that thrill of victory

And the swift sorrow for

The girl who loves you

 

But I’m here now

And we spend the whole night

Not touching

So I can spend the rest of my life

Not meeting her eyes.

Reviews

[pete hood]

Very real, frank without being gratuitously crude. "We won't do anything", famous last words. Great last couple of lines too.

[Erica Corbitt]

thanks for the review. I didn't want this poem to be about the sex but about the situation I think a lot of people could relate to. It's not mean to be sexy or crude. Just real.

[pete hood]

It is real! You did what you set out to do.