which is what you need

At four thirty a,m. i am here
after you have gone,
spreading out the sheet and it still smells like iron
and man and perspiration and you
and bodies touching and pushing and pressing,
the tasting, inhaling that went on here.
The room is still stuffy with the stuff of you,
still filled with the filling up we did on
each other,
and I am still wet with your kiss
And oh how after all hope was gone,
against all odds you came at three in the morning
with the wetness of your mouth and the gift
of your kiss, unpeeling me like a fruit,
sucking me like a lollipop,
pulling the goodness out of me like milk,
hands and hands and hands and fingers,
tender, gentle unfolding,
and the hot opening, the warm milk love,
and the apple pie thrusting, trusting glide,
what means the thrill of the sea,
and the wind in the trees if you don’t have me,
and if we don’t, in this bed, have this
miracle of men, and then, the orgasm,
which is making stars, which is making,
which is what it is, which is hot and slick
and does not care,
which is what you need?