Sex and Ceiling Cracks

Love is ceiling cracks

Because it's not the sex

That makes love

It's the intertwined spread eagle on his mattress afterwards

It doesn't matter

That he just fucked me

With my hands tied to the bed

And his tie over my eyes

Because we are dirty little kinky freaks

Who also like to snuggle

And to look at each other and not be able to stop smiling

Love isn't made by sex
Love is when I stare at the ceiling cracks

As he lies on me for minutes on end after he comes inside of me

Not because he's lazy

But because we both like how close we are like this

Love is in his hands that try to keep his body upright in the shower

As I am on my knees in the steam

And look up at him, smiling and tracing his cock with my tongue

Then watching him blissfully flopped in the tub

As gallons of water keep pouring and draining away behind us

Love is in his eyes as he happily gropes me in front of a mirror after we're done showering

While he's humming Bob Marley and Star Wars and swaying

There's no love when he pins me against a wall

Or throws me on the bed

Or huskily whispers that he wants to hear me scream his name

That's not love

That's passion and the best orgasms I've ever had

Love is in ceilings

And in hands

And in eyes

And cannot be seen very well without heavy breathing and skin on skin first

Because love is when you get to have the sex

And the ceiling cracks.