Breaking Free

I still dream of your cock crowing inside me, welcoming a dawn too warm to wear on the street. Sunshine blinds sense when I regret your touch. You examined me, naked behind blinds. all awe and wonder at how quickly I disrobed, basked in the early-morning light.


I know now the way our bodies moved addicted me, that only parts and appendages mattered. We talked about features, like you were preparing to test-drive me: the size of my breasts, the firmness of my butt. Red creeps in my cheeks. If you asked me, I wonder if I could refuse you, even knowing this.

One whirlwind winter, I spent my weekends with you. We would wake and sleep on whims, submerged in each other’s biological rhythms. Bantering back and forth, we spoke a gibberish that made perfect sense to us in your snowed-in apartment. My therapist called wondering why I had been missing my appointments. I had been working on my self-esteem, I told him, meditating upon my worth.

How simple it was, our tangled pressing, more natural than any I have felt before or since. Standing back from your shadow, I must break free from your influence. If I fall again, it will be my consequence, a fate I cannot face. I grew too attached and terrified of the connections I elected to make. In every thought I read your name.

I have tasted it one too many times for it to be good for me.