A competition you created—

anticipating the moment you tell me everything.

 

The way he touched your skin,

like a painter gliding his brush along a canvas.

The way goosebumps appeared when his fingers drew lines,

connecting the freckles on your dainty frame.

 

Then you tell me more.

 

Vanilla scented candles created an amber glow

on his bedroom walls.

His silky soft sheets were made deliberately disheveled.

 

And you tell me more.

 

His eyes never left yours

and when it was all over

you cuddled him through the night.

 

You tell him you want to be a lawyer

and he’s in school to become a doctor.

You bond over your similarities and

fall asleep to the slowing of your heartbeats.

 

But you didn’t tell me everything.

 

You didn’t tell me about the ache in your heart when

you gave yourself to him and

the only exchange after was him,

handing you your car key and black leggings.