Love poem
10/4/18 • 1:24am
You locked us into my safe haven
and I didn’t ask for the key back—
it was already gone
the moment your lips met mine.
Slow at first,
like you were testing me,
seeing how much I would allow
before I even understood
what I was agreeing to.
Your hands followed—
steady, certain,
learning the shape of me
like I wasn’t new at all.
But I was.
And that’s what made it dangerous.
We had just met
yet your touch moved like memory—
like something already written
into my body.
I felt it
before I could think it.
Felt myself soften,
lean in,
respond without instruction.
“Do you want more?”
you asked—
but your voice already knew.
And so did I.
Clothes disappeared
between breaths and silence,
like they never really mattered.
Your hands slowed then—
not rushed,
not careless—
intentional.
Like you were paying attention
to everything I tried not to show.
My breath gave me away first.
Then the way I moved.
Then the way I stopped
pretending I was in control.
I tried to stay quiet.
But my body didn’t listen.
It answered you
in ways I couldn’t take back—
in small sounds,
in shifting,
in surrender I didn’t plan.
You watched me.
The whole time.
Didn’t look away.
And that did something to me—
something deeper
than the moment itself.
I should’ve pulled back.
Slowed down.
Thought about it.
Instead—
I leaned in.
Matched you.
Met you.
Let curiosity turn into something heavier—
something confident.
Something that wanted
to understand
how far this could go.
So I shifted.
Took my turn.
Learned you
the way you learned me—
through reaction,
through rhythm,
through the quiet moments
where control almost slipped.
And I saw it—
the second you lost it.
Just a little.
That’s when I knew
this wasn’t one-sided anymore.
There was a balance now.
A pull.
A silent exchange
of who could make the other
give in first.
Time stretched—
blurred—
softened at the edges
until nothing else mattered
but the feeling of being
right there.
Until—
a knock.
Sharp.
Uninvited.
Real.
And just like that
everything broke.
You laughed—
easy.
Like it was nothing.
Like I was nothing.
I stood there,
wrapped in a towel
that didn’t hold much,
watching you move
like this was just another night.
You kissed me goodbye—
quick, light,
unfinished.
And walked out
like you weren’t leaving anything behind.
But you did.
You just didn’t feel it.
What a one night stand.
