I Don’t Even Know Your Name But I Keep Imagining Your Hands All Over Me

I’m a mouth full of eager
and shaky hands
that let go earlier than they should.
I say,
it’s not because I don’t want this.
I say,
it’s because I’m a nervous mess of
“Here’s my past”
and “I wonder if this is a good thing.”

You’re all oregano
and basil,
and I’d bet your fingers taste like all my favorite meals.
Let me try.
Let me show you how good this can feel.

What if this is the place
we find what it means
to find religion
in between the sheets

What if this is the place
we find what it means
when people say,
“everything was for us to meet”

You are in the next room and
I feel like I should apologize.
I’m sorry for all the noise,
for all the thumping,
for how my heart constantly shouts,
I WANT YOU.
I WANT YOU.

I could kiss you behind the restaurant
in the alley
whenever your shift finally ends,
and no one would even know.

Baby,
I could kiss you so hard,
and no one would even know.