sitting on my sofa
your hand over mine
you kept trying to kiss me

i knew what you wanted then.

i acted like the movie i chose was mesmerizing
it wasn't. you were.
all i could think about was how it'd feel to kiss you
like you wanted
like i wanted

our breathing patterns matched up.
my ear was on your heart (that's the closest i'll ever get to it)
you kissed me whisperingly on the forehead
just how i like it.
how did you know?
how could someone who knew me so little know me so well?

when i finally succumbed
it was hungry.
you didn't kiss me delicately, as i was accustomed
i didn't feel like much of a person at all
i felt like a thing
but a desirable thing

HE kissed me like a treasure
like i could shatter at any moment
i don't know why i ever tired of it.

your ravenous lips and hands were at once refreshing and scalding.
you didn't kiss like a good boy ought.
i wanted to reciprocate, to participate.
i convinced myself, yes, this is what i want.
he is what i want.
and he wants me.

you kissed me like you loved me.
or like you could love me.
i didn't need you to love me, i never asked for you to love me.
but you convinced me you could.

now that just wasn't fair.