The bones creaking from my last affair
The dust of my ribs sprinkling onto this new flesh
I want to love him in a rhythm that even God's choir stands in awe of
I grew tired of vibrating against his chest
Lay in angst and sweat wondering if this would ever feel normal
He rubbed my cheek with his satisfaction
He wanted me and I wanted to want him back
But I was struggling trying to fit into him like a glove I haven't worn all winter
His breath stuck to my skin and I tried to store it to memory
He wanted this to work
But for me, it was work
Sighs
Showers
Sex
Caffeine
Maybe I could get used to loving him
Maybe I could get used to the drumming in my soul
Maybe I could sing into his microphone and finally feel comfortable on the stage of our potential love
Every night I go to sleep trying
Then I deny it in the morning, over pancakes and regretful text messages
Maybe it's a mistake
Or maybe it takes practice
He's cute enough to practice on so I roll the hips back and forth
I put practice back into my vocabulary
And I learn to love him
I learn to really love him more than myself
And eventually when I see my ex, I thank him for being the practice that made perfect.
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