Arms and legs, she’s all around me, tight, entangling: hot.

She wasn’t the person I wanted to shag tonight … but was she?

I’ve never been held onto this hard, never been wanted as much.

I like being wanted.

This grip she has on me is like I’m special to her in some way. Or maybe she’s just wanting a special person and… I don’t want to think that far into empty darkness. I’m imagining an aching emotional vacuum. I can fill one of those with my own. Yes I can.

I can feel her loneliness, or am I just conjuring something from sleepy half-dreams?

Actually, I don’t really care. I’m comfy and sort of needed. She’s so fucking hot though. We’ll need to sort out duvets and stuff.

Ow! did I just think of a tomorrow, more of this, for us?

There’s this thing about levels of attractiveness and how long relationships last. What will she look like without makeup? Was she actually wearing any? Do I care? No, just be you.

At the party, fuck – where am I? I don’t even know whose bed this is – she helped an old man up to dance with her. It may have made his day. She made me dance with an old woman.

This lady tangled around me tonight has a heart and mind bigger that anything I have.

If she wants me tomorrow, I’m here: I want to know more.

I like someone holding me this tight.

©Gary Bonn, 2021