***ing vs. Loving

You’re not supposed to
care for me and
touch me and
love me the way you do.

You aren’t supposed to
want to know anything about me,
about who I am as a person,
about what I love and
what I believe
and what I think.

You aren’t supposed to be
gentle and loving like you are,
you’re not supposed to
care how I feel,
what I feel.

Everywhere -
television, movies, porn,
even people on the sidewalk -
promotes male dominance,
promotes
selfishness and
greed and
lust and
desire.

You’re supposed to tell me to shut up
hold me there
take what you want from me,
and then leave me alone and
broken.

You’re supposed to use me and
control me and
slap me around and
hate me.

You’re supposed to do what you want,
whatever you want,
regardless of the consequences or
me,
fuck me,
fuck me.

But you’re not like that.

Your touch is gentle -
my skin tingles every time I feel it,
feeling my stomach drop like I’m falling from a thousand feet and
I gasp and
get goosebumps.

You take it slowly, at first -
you love me and
caress me and
hold me,
hold my head to yours,
and I melt in your arms,
I melt.

When you get passionate,
when you do get needy,
you still have control,
you don’t hurt me,
you don’t ignore me,
you don’t fight me;
you don't fuck me.

There is love
in your touch, love
in your kisses,
love in every movement
every glance
every moan
every touch.

You’re not forceful or
intimidating or
frightening;
I’m not afraid around you,
only burning,
almost begging.

You and your gentle touch
make me beg,
make me plead you for more,
more,
more of that love, make me
squeeze every last inch out of you until
we’re both completely satisfied,
and we’re lying there,
wrapped up in your love,
and I feel warm,
and safe,
and I never want to leave.

And that scares the hell out of me,
someone like me,
because I don’t believe in love,
and I don’t believe that anyone could ever
love me, be
in love with me,
ever.

But you, you
are.
And I’m getting addicted to your soft kisses
and your smooth hands
and your firm body...