Napowrimo day 26

This is my slut shaming poem:

There are so many people coming and going from me that I could make a subway car jealous.
I've had more fingers inside me than a communal glove at a baseball field.
More people ride me on the daily than a zip bike.

To say that I like sex would be like calling the ocean “a little damp”:

A technical truth but certainly not a dimensional one.

It’s more like I think sex is

Two magnets pulling towards each other

Or wire connecting an electrical circuit

The moment when you bring a flame underneath newspaper and the flame is so bright and alive and you can’t look away.

To me sex is baking. You bring a few simple things together and create something fucking delicious.

It’s more like I think sex is

Fireworks, and parades and the best chocolate you’ve ever tasted in your life.

So fun it should probably be illegal.

So fun that every time I have it I ask myself why would I ever do anything that isn’t this ever again.

I know life as a subway car couldn’t come close to this.