Unequal
When I approach after the fact
When I am the first one to make the move
Either feels so forced
The air is awkward
But I wasn't taught the art of gentle
I was taught to roar
To fight
To take the upper hand
Even though
Here
Between his rejection and my embarassment
I wish I knew how to welcome the moment
To slide on vulnerability like that dress I wore
But I'm not sure if he noticed
Because it was paired with dominance
Keeping me from me
And me from him