I haven't met someone I wanted to be vulnerable to around, really ever.

The intimacy always snuck up on me with quiet and calculated missteps,
or I forced it in.
I never did it right I never took it slow.

But the fact that the only place your hand has ever been is on the top of my thigh, resting carefully palm open, trying to reflect no meaning--
I feel safe.
I hope someday you get to love me,

because for the first time I feel safe to let you

You left crumbs in the butter dish
And empty cereal boxes in the cupboard
You left all the lights on
And the bed unmade
You left the ash tray full
And your hair on the floor
Of the shower
You left my tank top hanging over the lamp
Where you threw it
You left your belt on your jeans
When you dropped them
Carelessly
Into the hamper
You left poems
All over my thighs
In Sharpie marker
You left fresh coffee
On my dresser
And kisses
On my forehead
And then you left
Me
Desperately craving all of it
And not knowing how to live
Without it