Just Sex
In the midst of confusion and after shock,
it was easy to be dismissive and down play
this thing we did like people stranded who don’t speak about
what they’ve done to keep from starving once they are out.
I’ve always wished I were a more casual person,
but I never imagined a one night stand like ours.
We kept most of our clothes on
and I think my eyes were closed for the first hour,
reaching for the rationalization of a dream.
I didn’t sleep, with your breath on my face and your legs between mine.
I just laid there stunned, more afraid of my waking than yours.
There was hope laced within your little whimpers
and gentle touching that I cannot discard
in spite of everything that has been said and done since.
I see now that you were so caring with your hands
to conceal the lack of warmth from your heart
and I hate you for being tricked.
There was a promise your body made,
the rest of you never meant to honor
and had no right to offer.
I could waste paper with a series of questions
I don’t really want answered.
I’m not looking for the point blank explanation
or unfeeling apology I know you’d have,
if I dared ask.
I don’t need to be punished again by your idea of honesty,
I just want my life back.
I’ve come to think of myself
as a pity lay or body pillow with fingers,
but you said it wasn’t “just sex”.
I wasn’t a rebound and that wasn’t fucking we did,
but you don’t have those feelings and don’t want a relationship,
so what’s left?
It was November, but I remember it like last night.
You put a fan in the window and came twice.
I don’t need closure
or some sobbing hug,
I need to go back in time and tell you to stay downstairs
because tonight, only one of us will be making love.
