You yourself said
that you have used sex as a drug—
when you were seeing the car thief,
you forgave yourself,
        gave into yourself,
when he sat you up on the kitchen counter,
slid your miniskirt up rudely,
removed your panties,
and began thrusting into you
        right then
        right there—
it allowed you to forget
        for a time
that your life
                was miserable
that your heart
        was singing
                        a threnody.

And over the years
as you have met women
whose love lives
have been more reckless than yours
the temptation is there,
        isn't there,
to find a man who will use you,
take you,
fuck you,
make you scream—
sometimes you want to dream
in the dreams you dream
after orgasm.

And I am still confused
        by the difference
between the body and the mind,

and you look at me and laugh.

I cannot be
        the man you long to abuse you—
a long thin body,
dark dark hair,
and a quick in and out,
        a quick in and out—
I cannot be
        your messiah,
        your second coming of christ,
I cannot be
        an instrument
        to let you escape yourself.

but I would never wish you to leave,
        to leave me
        to leave me like this.