but it was too messy to call it making love

my hair got in his mouth
his hips were too low
my legs got in the way
the angles just weren't right
it took us a few tries
to just "get it in"

there weren't roses or candles
i was in a white bra and *******
there was no black lingerie
i had shaved my legs in the morning
but i still had stubble in the places i missed
he wasn't tall dark and handsome
i wasn't white skinny and ****

we didn't know what we were doing
and if we could see ourselves
i'm sure we'd have died of embarrassment
seeing the mess of arms and legs
and body parts in awkward positions

but maybe that was the whole point
we laughed
and we laughed
he had a lopsided smile
and he smelt like home
his touch was comfortable
and his mouth lit a fire inside me
those eyes were full of greed
for not my body, but for me
it wasn't "him" and "me"
we were a we
and together we went through the journey
of discovery
finding out how our bodies work
when they are with another
finding out which curve fits where
learning where to put my hands
when he climbed up on my hips
learning how his body responded
when mine arched in pain and pleasure

his exhausted body
holding on to mine for dear life
no one mentions the sweat in your eyes
or that urgent need to ***
no one tells you that maybe you won't bleed
and maybe your favorite song won't be in the background
and maybe you don't walk out a woman, no longer a girl
no one tells you that *** isn't this magical thing that stops your whole world

but they leave out the good bits too
there's so much they don't tell you
like how, when it's over, he whispers *i love you
how his gaze drops when he says you're beautiful
how you can climb out of bed without pants and laugh
how he'll touch you in places you thought were sacred
how his touch will be worshipping the places you know are sacred
how *** doesn't change who you are
but at the same time:
it does.
your body will always have his touch;
but that's okay.
because you want it to stay
maybe he was a moment
or maybe he is forever
but when you were together
you loved him and that's what mattered
safe & comfortable
passionate & loud

it took me a long while to be able to write this
because it was too messy to call it making love
but maybe that's the whole point
because love is messy
and making it, even more so
but its a mess you don't have to clean
(except the bedsheets)
maybe, just maybe
it was messy enough
to call it making love.

okay so i’m beginning to believe i was born asleep and still haven’t woken up, or caught in a day dream where my name is the answer to all your security questions. okay. a thousand years of wondering and all i can come up with is that you fell in love with me at a picnic in my imagination. the lemonade we always talk about swimming in sugar and tiny handmade sandwiches from my kitchen, your favorite, extra pickle. don’t forget about the pickles. of course the clouds march in stomping out the sunshine, of course. it was dark and there was lightning so much lightning. don’t be scared just now darling don’t be scared. in the middle of the night we only talk about your version of the story. how i’d ask you to stay, asking you to tell me what’s real asking you with my hands asking you with maps, a country called please listen to me, you should know by now that it is an island too far to sail to according to you. i know i know, who dared name an ocean lonely when all the ships are sinking. we can go back we can turn around where the sky is the gentlest shade lavender, we can go back and have a conversation that has never happened before. when everything is the color of day old bruises i won’t let you down. i promise when i get home i will count every freckle every one. when i get home can we open one of those mason jars full of fresh air because i can’t breathe. i remember that day, although i pretend it was more recent than it was. you were there in a swell of green grass in a dress that makes me blush, and there i was blushing. i’m not sure how i made it out alive, skipping the part in the song where you, long gone come busting through a doorway, through the well air conditioned living room and and across the kitchen tile, to the refrigerator where just like in elementary school, my fourth grade heart wrote all your favorite things on flash cards in the blackest magic marker so i could memorize the things that made you happiest. and you turning around in slow motion to see my face, or where my face should be, the only expression i can make anymore, realizing that you realized that i only ever wanted to be something that made you happy. suddenly you’re tired, and i’m tired too, goodnight goodnight, i’m falling asleep because it’s the only thing that doesn’t burn. i’m falling asleep to go back again. everything glitches and i’m underneath your perfect teeth. you say “i would never hurt you” and i say “just like that?” and the layer starts over again, always back to the moment i asked you in my bravest of voices if i could hold your hand. you probably don’t remember that moment, or maybe you do but don’t particularly share the same sentiment over its importance. you see, i’m always fine until the part where i have to say it out loud, and then time stops. i have always wanted to tell you that something happened inside me that night and now i’m not the same me as i was before. so if you ever cross a bridge. if you ever get my voicemail, if you need me, i’ll be sketching up the dramatic parts in my head and they’ll happen just the way i imagined just you wait you wait. the last scene the very last one, the bottom layer, knee deep in mud knee deep in i told you so, you say “i would never hurt you” and instead of saying “just like that” i reach up to kiss you and the room evaporates. so if you want lemonade and bedtime stories, if i can make a believer out of you, if you want bucketfuls of november if you want grace if you want the courage it takes to ask for grace, you’re over the train tracks you’re almost home you’re almost there. what else can you say besides “okay pumpkin okay sweetheart, in my head everything was beautiful" the doorway now filled with people who send you birthday cards saying welcome back welcome home we’ve missed you, hello. hello. the time spent waiting, chorus of rain, i only invited you over so we could make perfect sense. i only gave my hands away because you didn’t want them anymore. and days later a man with a shark tooth necklace asked if i was okay and i lost it i just lost it. all the little red bricks with their little names carved into them, how they don’t feel comfortable under your feet, how there were hundreds of flowers but somehow we took a picture of the same one the very same one, and how we can’t talk about things like that anymore, how i was sitting on a bench and i didn’t hear you call my name, shaking hands on accident with your parents hello sir hello mam, your daughter is my favorite ghost.