My virginity
a security blanket,
I keep at the foot of my bed.

It doesn’t shield me from loneliness,
It’s purely for show.

I imagine limbs tangled in that blanket.
Our breathes mingling to create dream clouds.

Legs combining like tree roots.
A tentative hand and trembling lips,
The tangible reality of my nerves.

Sooth me with my favorite line from Jane Austen,
Darling I just might love you.

Hips grind against hips

We’re two halves of a love poem.
You, the undying love
Me, the inevitable disappointment.