sitting with you in the kitchen
the glass door of the oven mirrors your foot in its shoe
practical, down-to-earth, material
triggering love desire despair
you talk, i want to fuck you
i listen, thinking no chance, no way,
not even worth trying
we have three minutes before i have to go
a parting kiss
i take your breasts in my hands
fleetingly, longing
maybe later ?
this afternoon maybe ?
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