pulse banging his throat,
trying to climb out of him.
Our chests heave as we try to catch our breaths.
He grabs my face to look into my eyes again.
His thumb smooths over my cheek,
his lips brush across mine.
Our eyes are heavy with unshed tears,
as if we’ve bared our souls.
Then there’s a ringing in my ears.
A burning behind my eyes.
His voice is muffled now,
falling into the background.
The room’s air has been sucked dry,
leaving me suffocating inside my own skin,
gasping for a breath.
From the corner of my eye,
I can see Andrew watching me.
I can see his worried eyes.
My heart’s still racing.
The climax is still pulsing,
but my skin’s too hot,
my mouth watering with acid,
trying to burn off what we just did.
I close my eyes to force it back?—
please don't vomit, please don't vomit,
God, no here, not in front of him?—
but this sickness is still there, not leaving me.
I can feel his hands on me.
I don’t know if they’re on me still
or if it’s in my head,
