I told you you were like a tree trunk as I wrapped my body around you like vines, every pore of my body shaking like quaking aspen. So solid and so big, dwarfing me in the best way. Making me feel so small with you looming over me, shoving me into the door frame and back on towards the bedroom. Both of your hands together fit perfectly across my waist, squeezing the breath right out of me only to breathe in more with your young, thoughtful lips.
When you climb into me, you ask me if I’m ok. And you mean it. That takes more strength than moving with me and taking feeling for yourself. If only you cared less, maybe I could too. If I could stop wanting to taste the breeze moving under your skin, right at the thinnest part of your flesh on your neck. If only I could stop wanting to feel you grow around me like a tree reclaiming what man tried to steal from it.
|Self Portrait taken in Midway, Utah|