Never Calling

I’m an orphan,
Stroking my mustache – the prickly hairs, barely there,
And you so far away – never calling me,
My fingertip on my upper lip,
Distracting me from wanting you.

My words are nothing – my thoughts nothing,
My hand between my legs,
Remembering the twist of your wrist as your hand reaches in,
And that shout of….that growl of….
Riding your arm and your hand like a train,
Bruising your wrist as I fuck you.

It is a simple nothing,
the smallest ellipse of a wonderment,
And you so far away – never calling me,
I’ll tear out my cunt and mail it to you,
Heavy with unshed orgasms and tears,
And you – so cavalier.

About Avery Cassell

Avery Cassell is a queer butch San Francisco writer, poet, cartoonist, and artist who grew up in Iran.
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