I watched a documentary about monogamy last night. Then I laid in bed and drank wine and almost shouted “I love you” to a man. I said it in my head and in my heart and I let it whisper below my lungs, if that’s even how anatomy works.

Either way, I let love **** me up.

He was crying into sheets as I rubbed his hair and asked whatever God there is, if this love could last my whole entire life. But I think he was not crying over me. The room was hot and full of honest words that I wasn’t thrusting into him like my tongue in his mouth. When I fell asleep, I dreamt about all the ways I’ve found myself and lost myself in so many men. I dreamt about how I’ve let love **** me up, over and over again. And somehow I woke up laying naked with a loveless man on sheets that still had me all over them.