Firsts

I wanted it to mean something.

It was late,

I had snuck into your bedroom so your sister wouldn’t know.

The street lamp outside your window was casting shadows on the wall,

this isn’t how I wanted things to happen, 

I wanted every moment,

every touch,

to mean something. 

Instead I’m on your bed underneath you,

as he leans down I wonder if I’m doing this for myself or for him. 

We’ve been friends for a while, 

a strained relationship. 

There were feelings that I couldn’t explain, 

an inexplicable magnetism that was dragging me towards him. 

He told me that it wasn’t supposed to mean anything,

but the way that he’s looking at me as he hovers over me is making me rethink.

His pupils are blown out so wide I feel like they’re swallowing up all the light in the room. 

I close my eyes and our lips touch.

When we connect I feel myself light on fire,

my body has become gasoline and the flames are licking at my ribs and organs. 

He pulls away and looks at me,

all of my emotions start ricocheting off of the inside surface of my skin.

It doesn’t happen often but every once in a while i feel his hands on me in the dark,

skimming the surface of my skin.

Tangling his fingers in me like I was an object of lust. 

I told myself I was worth more than this,

I was worth more than hushed lies and hands down my pants. 

Even now as he sits next to me I can feel myself dissolving into him,

someone that I never was.

Love isn’t solely based on lust,

love isn’t something that can be turned on or off.

Either you want all of me or nothing at all.

I’m not a tree where you can pick only certain pieces off and eat for your pleasure. 

I wanted it to mean something.