“You fuck me better than anyone else ever has. ”
She says,
And as instantly as my ego’s mouth
opens up to swallow the delicious words,
my heart pounds my chest
into a vulnerable cavity.
It recalls why it hurts
to hear these words,
even though my mouth has gone dry
with the thirst for them.
She has taken them away before.
Timing, age, hormone fluctuations:
there were always alternate explanations offered.
And while the subjective truth
is that it was likely
done for protection..
The sting remains.
Constantly doing the work to accept
my own feelings,
then being made to wonder
if I was just being
naive.
It is a curse at times
to read
others, and wonder whether their words will
find their body’s message.
Or if fear will prevent the delivery,
and suffocate the possibility.
Finally offered a drink in this heat,
my
tongue couldn’t figure out how to
swallow.
But I had already absorbed her into
my hollows.
Now, I sit and contemplate
fears we both harbor:
Her fear
whether my hunger
will outgrow her
ability to satiate.
My fear,
A sexual awakening of self
that could lead her backwards,
or perhaps forwards,
into this decade of desire.
Our fear,
that we become too significant to the other.
Our fear,
that the others passion,
is purely circumstantial.
Luckily,
There has been no denying
the strength of this connection.
It cannot be ignored.
It is too warm
to not take up space,
too obvious in the way my body melts,
too resilient in the way it fears
not taking this risk.
Active
Passion,
Love’s Purest Reaction.
We are both fucked.