Wet Poem by Jessica Hughes

We were in the sack, causing the sheets to sweat.
They moved about as an orgasmic spasm.
But what affected me the most were the
dramatic: moans, groans, pants.
He would grab my waist so tight.
Until, I blurted out poisonous pleasure.
These moments of lust pursued within the nights hour.
And then I said it was time for him to go.
I watched him hop inside his sweat suit.
The darkness revealed his face as if he was ashamed.
I laid on those stained sheets at a loss for words.
And then some...
Those sheets told a miserable story.
Our juices dried upon the headboard.
But, it was only bodily fluids and nothing more.
So why do we keep doing this to ourselves?
Truly, I could never be yours.