I am liquid

I am liquid.
Cup me and feel me drip over your fingers.
Close your lips over my open mouth
And lick trails down my body,
Get on your knees and lap at my wetness,
Drink me down, suck me greedily into your mouth.
You can enter me however you like,
Feel me flow around you to accommodate you
And slide all over your skin.
You probe lightly with the tip of your fingers,
Like you test the temperature before a swim,
But I’m always running hot for you,
So much so I gently mist over
And float above my own skin.
So you touch and quickly jump in,
Fill all of me and pound roughly,
And every entrance strikes against
The bits of me that are still solid,
Tears through them and more liquid wells up –
There’s so much swilling in the depths
Just waiting for a reason to come out.
Don’t be gentle with me.
You can’t catch water with only your fingers.
You need to capture me in both of your palms,
Make me fill all the space in your fists.
Drag me down into the darkness and heat,
In the primordial state from which I erupt,
Fill up the tunnels through which I normally flow
And feel the pressure build against the tightness
Until I find my release and make it spray on your skin.
I am messy. I always overflow and spill,
Connecting you to me in sticky strands,
And I am loud. Gurgles as I crash against my bed,
And those wet slapping sounds at every dip into me,
Every plunge that ripples over me in screams.
I do not understand barriers.
I will splash against your skin, and burrow deeper,
Until I run down your mouth and through your veins.
I will leave bits of me inside, and keep bits from you.
You will have me, and I’ll take something for it,
Every touch switching pieces between us,
Every contact marking a structural change.
And then I’ll flow back into my form,
Pretend again that I am human as I rest on your chest,
But you know better now – you know I am liquid,
Spit and sweat and tears of pleasure,
Pounding blood and a flood of excitement,
And I can’t wait for you to make me come out again.