He tells me he wants to make love to me
He tells me he wants to love each part of me separately and in my entirety
Love the dips above my hips
Where his hands can hold me together
Love the forest of my legs
Where my up and coming feminist refuses to shave
Lose himself between my right thigh and my left
In love.
Aww.
In ***?
But I want him to love the links of my words to my lips
And their ties to my thoughts
And feelings
So much more than my body
I want him to love
The fear in my voice when I say I'm sorry and I need you slips out too
I tell him I already love him so
That the love we've made without the act itself is too great
To taint too soon with lust
Dear,
I say
Must making love to you require my body?
Can I not love you being lost in the web of words you weave in my head with a smile?
Can I not love you serenading you with a drunk midnight poem
(Sounding more like slurred I love you's by each bottle bottom)
Can I not love you staining your name on each page of my journal?
Tattooing it on the forefront of my mind
Can I not love you being cocooned in the depths of your soul
Spilling over into mine
As you fill me with a content
I never knew I could deserve
Before your fingers can even grace my bare skin
Under cover of sheets
I do love you my dear yet without making love to you
And I do want to kiss you
And I do want to make love to you
And be held
A child
Infantile
Needing your touch
For survival
And when our bodies do finally meet
Each hair on mine will rise and commemorate the love we've made
But not yet
My dear
No
We mustn't spoil it
Not yet
For I never knew love and *** were synonymous
And now I wonder if this means my parents were in love
And now I wonder how many people you've loved
Now I wonder if the girl who throws her body at men only wants to be loved
*****
****
*****
I think it funny that these words aren't tacked to men
As they are women
And I understand now
I am an object
I am wrong in all I do
He kisses me
That's so cute baby
You are so very smart
I let him **** me