we went through
three bottles of wine,
spent the evening
in the embrace of
soft conversations
on table thirteen.
it was four o’clock.
sun nowhere near.

you moved closer,
leaned in,
and i froze.
i couldn’t breathe.

i had no idea
what you were doing.

i was locked in your eyes
until you broke the moment,
laughing —
you’re so easy to ******.
i felt something in me split.

you’re not stupid.
i know you knew
that my heart
this year has been
only beating for you.

until you lifted me up
as our lips brushed,
for the first time in months —
and the night blurred
in the back of a car,
all glass and gold streetlight.

the heat of your laptop
on my thigh,
netflix playing rick and morty —
at first, we watched,
then it faded into background.

i fell asleep
in your clothes,
your scent
settled into my skin
as you held me close.

and then it hit me —
you’re the first person
i’ve met
who would carry
all of my parts.
gently.
even the cracked ones.
especially.

The only thing
you two have in common
is your sign:
Pisces.

And I’m the mermaid
who’s already chosen
which one to keep—
but still,
I wanted you both.

sweet and sticky
candied flowers

callouses over the warmest spots
whispers brushing against cool stone

honey drips off your lips
sinking —
into the deepest parts
of all i’ve lost

go slower, take over
consume for hours
never ending, all devour

sunrise coming
trembling, begging
go slower, it’s not over

.

I run my fingers
between my legs
searching for pleasure
something that
usually
I don’t feel in my day-to-day
just a little, I beg
make me feel
something