Where it almost began
I miss you a little bit,
mostly. I miss the potential
of what we could have been
the version of you and me
that almost existed.
You made me feel good.
And at times I can feel my body
missing your touch
missing the way you held my hand,
how you didn’t hesitate to be seen with me
like we already belonged to each other.
The way your hand found my back,
resting there, then gently pulling me closer
like I was already yours to keep.
I miss the way my body fit around your arm
while lying in bed,
your lips tracing my neck
and my cheeks,
slow and soft, making it feel like
so much more than just sex.
Thinking back to the last time you kissed my lips,
I remember watching you leave
and thinking, this could be the man for me.
You made my body feel good,
at the same time. Your presence made me nervous,
in that way where you catch yourself thinking,
hoping they feel the same as you do.
Was this just the way you are,
or was I as special as you made me feel?
The potential of us going out together,
you saying you love me
for the first time,
you introducing me as your girlfriend
to your people.
But it lives here, soft and unfinished
a fantasy that keeps replaying in my mind.
Maybe life with you would have looked different.
Or maybe it’s the not knowing that stretches this feeling,
makes it bigger than it ever had the chance to be
the way unfinished things always do.
Or maybe that’s all we were meant to be.
Three amazing dates, and a memory
that still feels like it could have been more.
Violated
Why does one feel ashamed when clearly violated?
When your boundaries have been crossed,
your kindness and trust used as weapons to deceive you
to get you exactly where they want you.
Their hands on your lower body.
And before you’ve realized what’s happening,
you’re pulled down onto the bed,
trapped between their locked arms around your waist.
If only ”fight or flight” was an option.
But no — you are the rare freeze type.
Your mind shuts down and escapes your body.
And then there you are,
on the other side of the room,
watching the empty shell that is your body,
locked and defenseless in the arms of its perpetrator.
