the first love of my life never saw me naked -
there was always a parent coming home in a half hour,
always a little brother in the next room,
always too much body and not enough time for me to show him
instead, i gave him my shoulder, my elbow, the bend of my knee
i lent him my corners, my edges, the parts of me i could afford to offer
the parts i had long since given up trying to hide.
he never asked for more
he gave me back his eyelashes, the back of his neck, his palms
we held each piece we were given like it was a nectarine,
could bruise if we weren’t careful.
we collected them like we were trying to build an orchid
and the spaces that he never saw,
the ones my parents had labeled ‘private parts’
when i was still small enough to fit all of myself and worries inside a bathtub,
i made up for them by handing over all the private parts of me
there was no secret i didn’t tell him, there was no moment i didn’t share,
we didn’t grow up, we grew in, like ivy wrapping, moulding each other
into perfect yings and yangs
we kissed with mouths open,
breathing his exhale into my inhale.
we could have survived underwater or outer space
breathing only of the breath we traded,
we spelled love, g-i-v-e
i never wanted to hide my body from him,
if i could have i would have given it all away with the rest of me
i did not know it was possible to save something for myself
some nights i wake up knowing he is anxious,
he is across the world in another woman’s arms,
and the years have spread us like dandelion seeds,
sanding down the edges of our jigsaw parts
that used to only fit each other
he drinks from the pitcher on the night stand, checks the digital clock,
it is five am,
he tosses in sheets and tries to settle, i wait for him to sleep
before tucking myself into elbows and knees
reaching for things i have long since given away
(Source: flightoftheseabirds)
