It was easy to train myself to swallow what I made while their backs were turned. My lips parted and I groaned. The heat rose inside my hands. I know it when it’s seen. I know it when it’s felt. Palmed against my waist. Held, it’s understood.
There’s a son in me somewhere. There’s a daughter in me somewhere. There’s a lifetime of potential, and I haven’t cared to look.
Your face slides around to the back of your head and it sears straight through me every single night. Sometimes you smile, sometimes I stick my thumbs in your mouth, and leave bruises above your shirt.
No matter what’s revealed, I’m still the only person you should trust.
You can’t believe everything you hear. Pressed against you is when it’s understood.