I didn’t want to sit there
in that parking lot
mouth on your crotch
or holding you in my hand, even.
You asked me if I wanted to
“see it”.
No.
No is always the answer.
I never want to peep.
It never, ever
fills me with awe, or excitement, or joy.
Or, peace.
Ever.
Until
Unless
you make me believe
you want me.
Until
Unless
I matter.
Until
Unless
looking at pieces of you
reveals an entirety
of something more, other.
But I couldn’t simply tell you that.
I had to tell you
something
nice
good
not true
so you wouldn’t go away,
so you’d
maybe
want me eventually.
To tell you I wanted to matter to you
It’s steep
Too dear to expose in a parking lot
on a thirty minute lunch
when you want my answer to just be
Yes.
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