vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me

im always so vulnerable with you

you told me you only let yourself be touched when you cant feel
when the alcohol
when the drugs
when the substance has mutilated your insides so that when they are inside they do not touch you vulnerable

but you touched me vulnerable
would you not let me kiss your neck because its outside?
because that intimacy is closer than all the men, all the women, that have been inside you
because you would feel the spasm of every one of my lips muscles contracting and convulsing against your skin.
because my kiss on your neck would demand to be felt,
like a knock, like a doorbell wanting to be inside, an echo that you can't ignore.
breaking the blood vessels just on the surface of a cavity holding your air to existence...
would i break your existence?

a bruise for you to feel on the surface
a bruise for you to feel the exposure
a bruise for you to feel what can be lost in memory with every heavy sigh you take in
a bruise reminding you that you took my breath away
that you took my innocence away
that you took my virginity away
that you touched me vulnerable...

you made me stop...
in your taunting saftey word phrases, in your pauses, in your avoided eye contact
i felt your vulnerability most

i confessed once that i love when youre vulnerable

you said youd walk around later hearing "let me let me let me" as i whispered at your throat
begging for you to let me into something more than your mouth, something more than your body
does it haunt you like the doorbell?
does it haunt you like the echo?
do my words stay at your throat like the kiss that never made it there...like an invisible threat or torment to your vulnerability?
do my words strangle you and suffocate your air?
are my words grasping prsion bars from the outside?
trying to touch something locked away...
would my kiss have broken your existence?

would my kiss on the outside awaken something inside you, that if i touched, would hurt you more than the bruise at your neck
because a kiss that hard is somewhere inbetween pleasure and pain
and we both know how both,when felt together, weaken your mind, your body, and soul to be stripped down, naked, VULNERABLE, shards of self not inside or outside
and that feeling of inbetween is more vulnerable than the definite evidence of a hickey left on your outside, or the definite reaction of your body to the sensations when fingers are inside
because the phsycial cannot touch your soul
because no matter how many ******* or hickeys penetrate your body,inside and out,they cannot touch your existence

i wanted to touch your existence

i didn't want to make love
i didn't want to have ***
i didn't want to have pleasure or pain
and thats why i also confessed that when you touched me vulnerable i felt nothing
because i was waiting

waiting like the doorbell that you never came to the door to answer
waiting like the knock that you never came to the door to answer
waiting like the echo i whispered that screamed for you to "let me" in
waiting to feel your existence

to exist with you inbetween;inside out outside in

i told you once before that you felt like a soul mate to me
and you touched me vulnerable
you touched me vulnerable
you touched me vulnerable
but you did not feel me

so now when i slip my fingers inside myself i feel to see if my innocence is still there
i feel to see if my virginity is still there
and this bruise that you left on my throat i press my fingers against to feel the throb of pain so i can feel if my vulnerability is still there
and they are...
they are because i kept those when i left my existence on a tongue thats tasted many souls but never swallowed
on the fingers of hands that touched many bodies but only felt the wet that washes away with the soap...clean of something permanent
a temporary high
would you let me touch you without being high? no.

you didnt care to be my first, said it was a weapon, that the only thing you wanted was for me not to regret
i dont regret. i dont regret at all.
but i hope my existence that i left to you is a weapon that you can't fight off with the drugs or the alcohol
i hope my existence that i left to you stained your hands and is holding onto your teeth like those prison bars
so that when we ****
**** because ******* has no love and is a pitiful attempt to be ***
when we **** again
i hope that if not my existence, you at least feel my presence
my presence that will be your echo, your knock, your doorbell for the ignored and dismissed love i feel in the depths of my soul for you...

the love that you will never desire to feel more than my body (outside)
that i, more than your body, desire to feel your love-not for me or for anybody else but the love you feel for yourself (inside)
and we will never be what's inbetween

we will never be more than you touching me vulnerable but not feeling my vulnerability

vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me...

I sit in this lone room.

Full of others but still no joy.

These lessons being beaten into my mind.

I don't want to learn this, these requirements.

I want to learn of my passions,

My life goals, my loves.

The teacher continues, not knowing,

The thoughts blocking out their words.

"You can do better than this" they say.

I am doing better,

This mind is more complex than anything.

You've never seen a mind this bright.

But you can't test a fish's intellect,

By asking it to climb a tree.

I am the fish,

This school is the tree.

The class is a prsion,

my mind wants to be free.