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.