“a maybe isn’t a yes”
as you ran your thumb
across my bottom lip

my hesitation was
palpable as my breath
hitched in my trachea

you could see i was
unsure, so you stopped.
“an ‘i don’t know’ isn’t a yes”

without a hint of disappointment
you rolled over and pulled
your shorts back up

over your thighs.
i feared the press towards
“come on, we don’t have all night”

but the press never came.
your roaming hands held me
elsewhere, bewildered and confused

like a creature rescued
from a life of torment
i whispered softly

“yeah, maybe not tonight.”

later you mentioned it took
me so much longer to
give myself to you

than the few girls
you’ve touched before.
if you had held me a few years

ago, we would’ve touched
on the first date, tasted
my anxiety sooner

because my “yes”
has always been one
of wanting to please.

i never wanted those boys
the way i hold you now
all five-foot-ten and blushing

when you pull my hips
to yours, it is without
a hint of deceit, without

the need to feel something
from nothing, without the
intent of simply feeling inside.

my head cradled in your palms-
“is everything okay?”
there is no reluctance

in being honest, no
parsed words- simply tears
and a hug. whether words

or lips, there is safety
with you, a safety that
would be sad to ignore.