Skin Against by Antoine Anderson

I kissed him
and his unshaven hairs bristled
against my cheek; 
rough, coarse
like the girls I had tried to dive into for too long. 
Music beyond gender played for our confusion,
our surprise. 

We blew each other there in the monochrome backseats; 
cars raced by our drumming bodies, 
looming over the other, 
that sweated, farted, strained to enjoy
in the sickly new and sweetly strange.

We didn’t finish
and decided to hush our gropings,
to keep all to a whisper 
between us. 
Into the masculine morning I went
and collapsed into the sheets
of silent, dim thoughts,
numb trauma,
and severed desire.