I use
to
cry
when
I came.

At the
moment
of climax,
as
the
muscles
tensed
then
released
and
my
body
was flooded
with
that
amazing
sensation,
I was
shattered.

I felt
myself
breaking
apart
into a
1000
tiny
pieces
and
I would
cry.

I would
feel
connected
until
that
moment,
until
I came
and
then
I would
feel
the truth.

The truth
of
bodies
in motion
and
friction
and
know
I had
never
really
given
myself.

A feeling
of
complete
and
utter
isolation
would
wash
over me
with
him
still
inside me
and
I would
cry.

There was
nothing
lonelier
than that
moment.
Of going
from the
height
of ecstasy
to the
depths
of despair
in a single
second,
a single
twitch
of a muscle.

There was
no way to
explain
my tears.

No way
to look
into the
confused face
of the man
I was
with
and
say
what was
going on
inside me.

That I was
breaking apart,
that I was
alone,
that
he was
inside me
and I was
still
not
connected
to him,
not in
any
real
sense.