Squishy


Squishy–when he hears that sound
he stops
mid stroke
to relish in it

It’s a goal
that you don’t go after
but one that leaves you
feeling accomplished on meeting

Squishy, may not be
the most accurate
phonetic interpretation
it’s like batting a good hit and
hearing the perfect crack from the ball
hitting to the outfield is reward enough
but that sound
creates the memory
it’s the music of the timing
and the cherry on top

I know I’m not the lover
I once was
I’ve made it about him but
it has nothing to do with him
I’m closed, shut up and down and
inside myself so deeply
I am without direction
on giving more of me
I feel like
the only thing I can give him is
Squishy

The moment
he slows his movement
pauses his mind
continues his thrust
to create the sound
he is in it

I feel the stroke
The sound was at first
a consequence
until his rhythm changed
he changed in me
then it became—
Squishy

It was no longer the ins and outs
I got lost in it
I no longer wanted to direct him
on how to love me
he was getting better
better than me

I had not opened myself
to receive him
only get what I ask
and take what I want
taking love selfishly

I still think
we are issues to read
we have more sounds to make and
more moments to make—
Squishy

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