As impatient hands tear away the needless clothes,
And lust begins to rise
A thought begins to grow:
What is this?

These desperate bodies intertwining,
Looking for a fix.
A half hour of pleasure,
To keep the world at bay.
Is that what fucking is?

Lips pressed together,
Thrusting under sheets,
As the bed frame cracks against the wall
Keeping time to passion’s release.

Needy moans and greedy hands,
Exploring delicious curves and edges
Soaring higher and higher,
Screaming with completion
Is this what sex is?

Twisted sheets and soft, sweet kisses,
And my lover’s gentle touch
Skin on skin, slick with sweat
Exhausted from our efforts
Is this what making love is?

Call it a quickie, a simple fuck.
Call it meaningless, just a wild, exciting fling.
Call it love, full of energy and joy.
It just depends on the night.

But laying there,
Filled with a lazy glow
In my secret heart of hearts,
I called it perfection.