when we kiss by dewitt brinson

Here stand here
move this way
pretend my mouth
is the back of your hand

Yes you are doing fine
we are breaking apart
We’ll pretend no longer
our mouths are
the backs of our hands
Our handshake
is awkward

DeWitt Brinson is a poet in his late 20s with a lot of razmataz. He enjoys holding his hands, long walks, and pegging. He loves sex when it gets emotional, when we cry or laugh or get angry. He likes pulling hair and spanking and making the other say please. He thinks it’s easier to be intimate when both partners are equally adept at fighting, but it’s fucking sexy when you know they are strong enough to beat the crap out of you.

He’s a top-bottom.