Sabrina Must

I watched him between my legs,
his hold firmer

I’m scared to text because I’m supposed to not let you know I’m thinking about you.

And I don’t take it back.

I need to feel you, your emotional connection to me, your attraction to me. 

Not even the nicest of homes nor the most stunning ocean view
can distract my mind from what it wants, what it misses.

I told myself to be carefree to just have fun to enjoy you because I could.

sometimes, as in all the time, I want you back.

Are you craving my smile and tickles down your bare back as you lay your weight onto mine?

I should enjoy inviting a man over on a Friday afternoon to make love and pleasure each other, to lay in each other’s sweat and passionate kisses, legs intertwined, because I can. Because I want to do it.

Every single person is a product of sex, but sex is wrong. We’re born nude, but we must cover up. Children are nourished with breasts, but women can’t show them.

These feelings and thoughts are something about which few talk and to which few admit, but if I’m feeling it, I know most others do too.