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.