Sweetness

   I never understood how sweat could be sweet. The salty tang, the sting as it slides over your skin…none of that is sweet. It comes from pain, the pain of sickness, or of heat, or of exertion. Or just the pain of living. But there is sweetness in pain—I’ve found that through you. Pain can be exquisite. Pain is what makes us feel truly alive. I’ve never welcomed anything to me as openly as that.
   I never understood how sweat could be sweet. But now as I watch it trace its way across your back, I can understand. That bead was made in pure feeling. The ecstasy we felt as we drew it out was sweeter and more poignant than anything else we could ever create. I want to catch it and take it into me, to capture every thought and gesture and sound and feeling that led up to it welling out of you. In a few hours all of this will be a memory. The pain will be dulled and pushed away, no longer sharp. It will be nothing more than an ache that I can tell is there in my chest, so deep inside I barely know it’s there. The tremors of pleasure will be long over. The spasms will be done, and not even my muscles will be able to tell they were ever there. I’ll close my eyes and try to recall every moment of every second, but it will all slide away from me—as quickly as that one trail down your back disappears.
   I never understood how sweat could be sweet. But now, as I lay here and wonder if capturing that drop would allow me to hold onto these sensations, I think I finally do.