Vulnerable: it's the word of the week.
Remember when you told me you were a bad girlfriend. I couldn't really understand what that meant at the time. Was it a warning? a concession? an out? Yes. All of those things.
So, I walked out the doors, wide fucking open; bright eyes; vulnerable. I sat there, stood there, paced there waiting for you. I should have known then, but my heart protects my brain and vice versa.
Vulnerability presented itself in the form of grief so I settled in, comfortable in this comfort-food moment like an old pair of Fluevogs or a worn-in corset.
Remember when you leaned over to kiss me? or when I leaned over to kiss you? And we both made the decision to go there. Again.
The evening continued in the way our connection has. We spoke of former lovers as current lovers danced in our minds, radiating from our fingers. We spoke of race and class and love and sex... you uncomfortable in your comfort; me comfortable in the distance.
Remember when I felt your fingers on my skin, underneath me and I thought: how much more vulnerable could I have gotten? I let you hold my hand and I curled in as much as you would allow. I failed as usual.
Skin flowed over skin; heart over heart. We melted into each other; both elsewhere... both thinking of her or her or her or her. Perhaps you aren't seeing from the right angle...
Vulnerability was the word of the week...