Ode To One Of My Friends

you speak of sex as though it is water,

like without it you’d not be satisfied,

like without it you’d be a glass empty

because with it you feel quenched,

and he did that to you when you fell in love.

But you speak of sex as though it is imperative,

and he did that to you when you cared enough.

But I see you now as cold as the water

you bathed in, before you spoke of it,

before you were thirsty.