I don’t want to be the thing that satisfies you, but only for a moment.
I will choose you,
because I do not see another choice
that ends as beautifully.
Not another choice I would rather make.
I want to be the chorus that carries you through the day.
I want to trace each part of you underneath my fingertips until I know, until I understand.
I want your eyes open and bright, not red-rimmed and disguised with a loopy smile. Not a body slumped on a couch and an arm draped heavy across my shoulders. Not a kiss you won’t remember, still wet on my lips.
You make love to me with the lights on
So I’m forced to face my own weird fleshy cage
But now it doesn’t feel like that
My body is no longer the asylum I can’t check out of
My body finally feels like that temple everyone talks about
And my God, do I want to be worshipped
I am a woman
but I will not flit between
delicate and empowered.
I will not grace the vase
on your bedside table.
I cherish your big, strong arms. The arms that hold me up. The arms that shelter me, that make me invincible.
You are so much more than a body, created and capable, futile and flawed.
Not when we’re quiet and tangled in bed sheets, not in the shadow of a porch light, and not in a silent car on the highway.