Hindsight

I’ve never gone anywhere I haven’t consented to go.

He never looked at me, only at my chest.
With my throes of ecstasy I tried to divert
His attention from my parts which appealed
to the parts of His brain.
Me on top and His eyes up at me
He had me move and bring us both
Where He had wanted to go, I guess where
I wanted to go too.

I’ve never hurt anyone I haven’t had the pleasure to know.

He looked at me from his mother’s kitchen window.
With our last kiss He let out two sobs, but there were no tears
I cried from His lips to my car and then all the way home.
Never would I find myself again in His arms
where I felt warm, without care.
But He himself was cold.
I couldn’t stand to be sustained
by a source which looked upon itself with disdain,
which couldn’t feel happy in a happy place.

I’ve never looked back on anything I haven’t pulled meaning from.