What It’s Like To Kiss A Woman After Years Of Questioning Your Sexuality
In the morning, her long hair splaying over the white silk of your pillowcase makes your breath catch in your throat
Touching her lips is like sampling
the first bite of a meal and suddenly realizing you have been
ravenous, needing to taste
every inch of her skin, kissing her like her lips are
the world’s last oxygen supply and oh how you need to get high
On the softness of her body, in its valleys and rivers and peaks, you need to travel
every mountain that her skin makes with your tongue, you need to touch her
like the world is ending
One
Vagrant
Surrender
at a time, because it is
because you’re shedding your uncertainty like snakeskin and that night
You make love inside the ruins
of your denial.
In the morning, her long hair splaying over
the white silk of your pillowcase makes your breath catch in your throat
Makes your body feel unworthy of the space it’s occupying, makes you certain
That you’d crumble any kingdom
that tried to stand in between you
and the curve of her body
in the morning light
ever again.
