Intimate

You’ve ruined me.

I have no escape.

You opened me and now I’ll never close.

There’s no going back, no retreating

but I’ll keep my escape route open 

as if to fool myself into thinking 

that at twenty-one I haven’t found the man that I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

There are unresolved feelings and confusion and pain.

I have so much work to do and so far to go.

But we’re intimate, in a way I only ever dreamed existed.

And it exists.

You exist.

And the only question left

Is if I’m old enough to realize

that you’re enough.