Between Bruises & Blooms

There was heat
between us.

I won't rewrite
that either.

You wanted me.

I wanted you.

There were nights
when our bodies
spoke better
than either
of our mouths.

And for a while

desire
felt indistinguishable
from devotion.

The way
you looked at me.

The way
your hands
seemed to say

mine

before I understood
how dangerous
that word
could become.

You made wanting
sound romantic.

Made hunger
feel holy.

Made me believe
being desired
so intensely

must mean
I was loved
just as deeply.

Maybe sometimes
I was.

Maybe sometimes
you didn't know
the difference either.

But desire
cannot protect
a woman.

Chemistry
cannot make
a house safe.

And wanting
someone's body

is not
the same thing
as knowing
how to care
for the person
living inside it.