On speaking the same language

I ask you

To describe to me

Feels I'll never feel

(Because what is to you, is to me).

First off, and I sit knees-crossed on

The carpet, glass of milk in hand, 

Rabbit eyed: 

"Tell me about being kneed in the nuts."

You need no second ask.

Imagine wasabi, you say:

A thimbleful, neat:

How there's nothing at first, then

Your body roars blue with it:

That's what it's like.

I take notes, and nod.

"Tell me about sex."

Your eyes are dark and stormy rum.

There is nothing,

You say.

Nothing but you.

I know just what you mean.