My O

Does my orgasm matter?
That elusive creature
That resides in the core
Of my being,
That strips me
Of all decency
And leaves me spent
Like a once
Live round.

Do you even care
As you jockey
To position,
Riding like
You are at
The Kentucky Derby
Trying to get
To the finish line.
Your finish line.
I'm sure
You don't even know
My finish line exists.

Do you even know
What my orgasm
Sounds like,
Looks like,
Feels like?
Do you even
Want to know?

Truth be told
I don't care enough
About you
To put up
With you lack of skills,
With your obvious selfishness.

I don't think
I could like a lifetime
Of never hitting that high note.
Of never seeing the edge of the universe,
Of never experiencing
A shared orgasm.

The kind of orgasm
That has us clinging
On to each other
Like it's us
Against the world.

The kind of orgasm
That strips us of
All our masks
And reveals us to ourselves.
Revealing that vunerable part
That no one,
Not even our mommas,
Ever see.

I did care for you
At one point,
But I care
For my orgasm even more.