Chilanga Sprinkles

We lie side by side. Our legs entangled. His head resting close to mine. His hands exploring the contours of my face while my fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the feathery softness. The fan above wafts the scent of his semen into my nostrils. I can feel it dribbling out of me, drying and tightening my skin. A delicious feeling. His cells saturating my pores. His being seeping into me. We don’t play the I-love-you-more game anymore. We haven’t in years. We both know it is a lop sided equation – that love. Perhaps it is because I have absorbed him for decades. His semen, thick and sticky, has infused me with his DNA over and over, making him inseparable from my being. Our human building blocks have danced within my body. I have grown variations of him inside myself. Kept alive by my blood. My body sustained little bodies that are as much him as they are me.