fire escape
the cliche that we start with is daddy issues, alright? and the subsequent hungering for male desire and care. bending, yielding, reaching for feminine perfection, infinitely wantable, forgetting to want, ripe to bursting.
can i point at this to explain why it feels like the world is ending when he looks askance for a few days? to explain why i ache when I witness my sister subject to the whims of when her boy can call, have I really grown any better? all i wanted was to grow immune to this grasping. but in the best of times, in the worst of times, i claw this same burning desire off the walls of my psyche: to have someone endlessly enthralled by my form, sleepless and yet lured to sleep in dreaming of my skin my touch my love. you claim to have me on your mind but no matter how good you are at words i can’t pretend they matter when they don’t reach me
and oh of course eventually there is ennui in the next boy gazing upwards, worshipful, breathless with wonder. disbelief that he could ever have earned this, never knowing that I love precisely how he never could have. and of course you are the only one for my life, my love, my mind.
and yet in the back of my mind there is a candle in a cavern, burning alone. flickering filmstrip shadows remind me i was wanted as badly as i wanted it, and i miss the memories that cast them