I had mainly been the plaything of straight men,
so when she asked me what I liked to do,
into her eyes,
and their associated heaven,
until she broke the silence with a simple sigh.
She took my hand,
tracing teaching onto it,
leaving me breathless and emotional,
on top of the soft duvet,
that I spent years trying to recreate,
but could never quite capture,
because it reminds me of how she held me,
that’s the feeling I really want back,
but I know I’ll never have it,
stuck in the habit of missing things that will always elude me.
She asked me why I cried so much,
I told her I was just happy to be with her.
I never told a lie when I was with her,
but I’ve never learned to be honest with anybody else.