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.