Standing in the Middle of the Room

Avoiding touchy-feely-painful parts,
concentration centers on physical.
We dance alongside our love, as always,
aiming to profess – confess undying
passion we rarely ever exhibit
anymore. When the mood strikes, thunder-clap
sex emerges lightning fast – rain washes
scents of it from our bodies, no longer
still entangled in sheet, panting passion,
murmuring words of wonder; we leave out
emotions standing pink-elephant-esque
in the middle of the room, not wanting
to spoil one second with reality
all our differences – money, family, friends.