Why I want to write poetry

when sex peaks and orgasm reeks i dream of swishing a pen in the air and write poetry but more than it is i want you to get off me and vanish - leave me in solitary so that i can make love to my ego (doesn't mean i dont need you... or love you) i relish watching skin touching skin as much as ink twirling blots on a clean napkin dirty - like me - and undoable - our faith encounter - and eventually meaningless - as we grow old so do you see why i write poetry? sometimes i wish simply it was you (but never, love, never)