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v u l v a l i c i o u s In the dark with your eyes closed, you can't really tell In the land of many hers, there can be several. And I kissed one of them. It was nice enough, there in the dark, groping and moving, sweating under too many blankets, attempting to make sense of the grammar of two bodies moving together for the first time. I laughed, as I must, because sex can do that to me. I giggle as I am kissing, because the idea of kissing seems utterly ridiculous when placed within the context of life in general. Bedrooms offer random specifics that do nothing to give clarity. I kiss with my eyes open, but not this time. I couldn't look at her, because I was thinking of someone else. I was there and not there, trying to think of what it meant that while I my mouth was with one grrl, my mind was with another. I could only think that she--my most favored she of the present--would not kiss like this, that her mouth would feel wholly different. And then there was my silence, my inability to ask for more when I knew it was what I wanted. She had expressed her disdain for rough touch, for hard kisses, for the kind of bite and pressure that I crave. Her mouth was too strong, and she sucked my lip so much that it hurt the next day. In short, what I wanted she did not give, but I never really asked for anything different. It all goes back to having my eyes closed, to not being able to look in her eyes and know that I had been thinking of someone else. I don't know where we're going, but I'm not entirely sure I want to be there. I feel a tangle of vines and unspoken words, and I think that maybe, after so long alone, I cannot handle the concept of a relationship. A friend tells me not to worry, that slowing down is a viable option. The friend is the one I wish I had been kissing, but I do not tell her that. I will slow down, I will speak up, I will remember myself more clearly. |