The Things He Told Me

The Things he Told Me

“Tell me all your secrets” She said.

My parents hate themselves.

My two cats love each other more than any human being.

I had an accident when I was nine

And when I was eleven I pushed my sister on purpose.

I want a white picket fence

I don’t want to be the death of me.

I have never really been in love,

But I promised someone I would love her forever.

“Tell me your truths” she said.

I don’t know what I believe.

I believe in true love.

I don’t believe in god,

but I believe there is magic in the third pew from the alter.

I believe men and women are created equal,

And all men should know how to drive a truck and skin a deer.

There are always bad people.

There are no honest definitions.

“Tell me your story” she said.

I wrote a book once.

No one bought it.

I guess that like all art,

It was a self-portrait.

I grew up right here.

Graduated there, skinnydipped in that water, and had sex on that soil.

I’ve had brown hair and brown eyes my whole life-

Just like my sister’s.

But these seasonal freckles

And that faded suntan

Are really telling my story.

“Tell me who you love” She said.

I love my mom.

She never yells at me anymore

And she looks at me like the man across the hall-

With worry and forgiveness.

I love my sister (I guess)

But she is kind of a slut.

I love my sophomore history teacher-

He once had us color in class.

I learned so much about the world.

“Tell me who loves you” She whispered.

Not the right people.

A girl who wants something impossible from me.

A girl who won’t believe me when I tell her:

“I made it all up” he said. 

I wonder

I wondered when you sat shotgun

Your fingertips on my forearm.

Your voice in my ears.

Your rhythm in my heartbeat.

My hands cooled my face,

when I was hot and sticky.

You just smiled.

I wondered then, too.

I had no appetite,

But I wanted to swallow you down.

Wanted to taste and feel you

To keep you deep inside of me

Filling me with wonder.

Filling me with hunger.

Then there were goodbyes.

Your poetry between my lips.

Your hands warming my face.

And I wondered then

Because I could feel the tears

Inside of me- where you belong.

I wondered when you were with her.

The frozen seconds of you too on expensive paper,

Brought me those same brown eyes,

That same tangled hair

Except this time- against her.

Tangled in her hair you were in her brown room.

I spit up a smile for you still.

Why is your smile

So overwhelming and all-consuming?

Why is every word of yours

Worth a thousand pictures?

Though I never could say it:

I wonder what that is-

If it’s you, filling me to the brim.

Then so much distance,

Starved and emptied me.

I Spewed out all my pleas.

Please.

I begged you for one sip

I longed for one more bite

You gave me nothing;

So I sustained myself on wonder.

Here we are now.

No pictures. No poetry. No hair or skin. No distance.  

Nothing sacred yields nothing broken.

Your heart and my soul, can’t make any more promises.

Overdosed and underfed by and for- you

I wonder. 

Denim on Rayon

Denim on Rayon.

He sank her onto the bed and followed her down. His fingertips slipped down the rayon defined curves of her torso and then clenched at her hips. He proceeded slowly, moving his fingertips down the sides of her cotton leggings and stopping at the hem of her dress. With new found confidence he slid underneath her clothes and felt the warmth of her skin on his. He kissed her neck and shoulders as he leaned into her body and his hands neared her breasts. She took a heavy breath.

“are you okay?” He asked.

“Mmmm.”

“We don’t have to do this.” He whispered. He kissed her jawline beneath her ear and she encouraged him by running her cold fingers up his naked back all the way into his scalp. The hair on the back of his neck erected. He kissed her lips and pulled her up right.

Her dress made a soft pillow behind her when he laid her back down, his hands cupping her breasts. He moved one hand down her stomach to the inside of her thigh. He Pressed her knee out and pulled away from her to inch into the space he’d made for himself.

“Turn off the light” She whispered. One shaky hand lay over her own stomach. Her other index finger traced the letters Levi Strauss and co while her thumb lie just inside the joint of the perpendicular zipper on his jeans. He moved his hand up her stomach and weaved it inside of hers.

“I want to see you.”

“Not this well.” She moaned. Her voice was saturated in nervous neediness. He kissed her chest and hesitated, but then nodded into her, his nose tickling her. He pushed himself to his knees with that hand and then leaned backwards to feel for the switch on the wall. when he removed his hand from hers she too sat up, her legs wide around him, and unbuttoned his jeans. Her hands were still unsteady and cold, but they were certain.

“do you want help?” He moaned. His voice dripping impatience and incontinence. She needed not respond, he guided her hand down the zipper of his jean and over his lap. She petted the outline of him over the denim, and inhaled deeply. She opened her eyes and tilted her head slightly upward to look at him, Her nose rested on his chin. He bowed his head and kissed her.

“Back up,” He breathed. He held the crotch of his clothes in one hand and took a couple steps back on his knees. She laid back and inched closer to the head of the bed, pulsing towards him again with every inch of separation, never taking her hands from his body, ceaselessly clinging to the anticipation.

He pushed her knees together with both hands and kissed the cotton that covered them. He drew her calves up over his shoulder and swept her into nudity. He then did the same to himself, and centered himself inside her.

What had always been fairy tale, forbidden, dark, and desirable was suddenly just his inhaling and her exhaling. His putting in the effort, and her opening up.