Sun, 01/01/2017 - 13:09 -- AngelP

When I approach after the fact

When I am the first one to make the move

Either feels so forced 

The air is awkward 

But I wasn't taught the art of gentle 

I was taught to roar 

To fight 

To take the upper hand 

Even though 


Between his rejection and my embarassment 

I wish I knew how to welcome the moment 

To slide on vulnerability like that dress I wore

But I'm not sure if he noticed 

Because it was paired with dominance 

Keeping me from me

And me from him


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