I Love The Way You Say ‘Fuck’ & Our Two-ness

I Love The Way You Say ‘Fuck’

I’m in the palm of your hand—

both figuratively and literally

You say:

“I’m so into you”

I say:

“both figuratively and literally”

You laugh from between my legs

twist your wrist

quote Lacan

into the skin of my thigh.

your voice is vibrating

as it gets muffled into me

I can’t comprehend much

except my grip on the pillow

except my mouth forming frantic, filthy

endearments muffled into

my own palm.

I hold the words there

stretch them outward to you

stroke your cheek with them

when you look up at me.

Our Two-ness

Thinking about you

eating me out makes me

cry now.

You said it was the

closest you’ve ever gotten

to meditating.

You said this while

I was on my back on the floor

in my parent’s basement.

I’m at work now. I thought about

that a lot though, you know,

at work.

“Fuck, Baby,” you’d say—

in your eyes I’d see my face

reflected back.

Even when you weren’t talking

your mouth

always moved dialectically.

Now, instead of heat and blood—

warm syrup pouring

into my stomach and lower—

my heart beats a funeral dirge.

I wear black panties in mourning.


Alyssa Ciamp is a scientist, a writer and an aries continually growing into herself. She tweets regularly about her work and also about the woes of being horny @ClinicallyChill. Find more of her work on her website: Alyssaciamp.com

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