an answer

What was it like?
It was like the translucent edges of my
outlined existence
gained focus and depth
drawing it out of the softness of your hips

it was like my fingers slid across you with
no resistance
re-writing the textures of my palm with
careful, attentive points of light

it was like my chest was strong and
I wasn't so thin
as merciful breaths of air crawled in through
your window

it was like smooth, wooden blocks
grabbed the hands of every clock around us
and twisted them into spirals of nothing and
not needing to be

it was like the air in my lungs was made of
the air in your lungs

But what was it really?
It was real
It was real