If We Wore Our Lies Like Virginities

He touched me
With fingers like metaphors and hands like commas
Caressed my curves with cursive and harassed my emotions with semicolons
Leaving me breathless with pants of what's next
His words made love to me
Broke banned book barriers
And shook sad sex scandals from my body
Caused volcanic eruptions in my soul with his diction

If we wore our lies like virginities
His is remastered, reconstructed with scrabble like game pieces, a stacked high encyclopedia of disasters
He wears his tornado proudly, whisking naiveté, trust, and confidant into his Neverending burial ground of stolen innocence and ill fitting words in his vocabulary
He wears his broken virginity like a chastity belt
Disregards definitions and reinforces clarity
Yet keeps his shock factor on 100
Every thrust is a surprise turn, an early period, a late exclamation point
He wore his virginity as a lie
Converted mine with words like first and shared
Connections like mutual and together
Confused my virginity with words and movements she didn't understand
Now his lie holds my virginity hostage, dangles her over the same burial ground he planted her expectations in
Debating whether or not his lie deserves to keep this feast reserved for his promised virginity
I wear my virginity attached to his lie
I can't quite shake the hymen that links them.