I used to be able

to tell you anything.

Through your silences

and perfectly-timed kisses,

you opened me up to every word

I wanted to speak.

Vulnerability, honesty,

they were stirred

by the taste

of your tongue.

And together

we began unfolding.

 

My hands trembled,

and you held them steady.

My heart shook,

and you cradled my soul.

I never was a good

spiritual lover.

My body gave willingly,

compulsively,

but the rest of me

remained,

wrapped in uncertainty,

drowned in second-guesses.

 

I loved you,

the only way I knew how.