Couldn't Care Less

The sweet moves of skin. Satin misses it. Silk enjoys its touch.
Hard thoughts drift away, grasping for a hold on a façade of slick passion.
Self worth and self-defiance fail to present a dedicated argument and no amount of pride can muster a unified front against the simple, obvious and true need of lust.
Flesh. Lips. Hands.
In In In.
Sliding. Kisses. Tongue.
Now.
Go on. Try to get angry. Sure.
Know you are leaving. Sure.
It is soooo over. Sure it is.
Tell yourself another story.
Then she smiles.
You hate her for it.
But you want.
To want is to feel.
To feel is rare.
That which is rare that is valuable.
So valuable.
Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.
Just be looking for and ducking that punch line.
It is cool to be happy, but better to have to earn, fight and take that happiness.
Nothing is better than trying.
Nothing is better than touch.