when we first met
I thought I could conquer the world.
you embraced me,
and I hit you across your chest,
with my tiny, closed fist–
“You hug too hard!” I said, rubbing my shoulders,
and you were too entranced, grinning,
told me instead,
“You’re beaming.
I can feel happiness bouncing off of you,”
I was too flattered
to argue.
I picked a strand of purple hair off your tux
and let you watch
as I took it between my fingers
and blew it away.
If I could drown you in my hair,
I would.
missing the hint,
told me instead,
“Hey, I was collecting that.”
I found that too funny
to argue.
as if to prove a point
you lifted me up easily with one arm
and threw me on your back.
instinct told me this was a feat of strength
you were displaying just for me.
“How does it feel,” I whispered,
against your ear, making it non-committal,
making it sexy,
as if violence wasn’t the crux of the issue here,
wielding the only advantage I knew,
I drenched my fear in sultriness,
“knowing you can just throw me around,
just like that?”
this one, you did not miss
and it made me trust you for years after,
the kind of trust that blinds,
that distorts,
denies all else.
you put me down and went down on your knees
your 6’5 matching my 4’11,
your first sleight of hand,
an illusion of equality–
looked me in the eyes and said,
“I do not think like that.
And I would never do that to you.”
Safety, such a tempting thing.
a soft blanket I wrap myself in
despite how tattered, how worn in,
I gather the shreds and burrow in further,
trying so hard, seeking warmth and fullness
telling anyone who would still listen,
I swear to you,
this is where I found it once.
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