Love-drop

I think I might need aftercare from cuddles.
Every step I’ve taken in this direction has been a struggle.

In my mind it’s pretty simple:
Pretty girls deserve
pretty words
pretty things
pretty touches
pretty rings.

But in the light
the ache turns inwards.
I deserve to hide
I deserve to comply
I deserve to keep it light.

Your hand around my waist
while making polite conversation
feels like a revelation.
Your joy at being safe with me
feels like pure salvation.
I felt so hot when I arrived,
but now I’m miles below their station.

I can’t enjoy it, not completely,
I forget to breathe.
Sensitive palms turn sweaty,
bruised knees turn weak.
Thoughts race inside of me,
braced for things to come between,
for someone to be awfully mean.

The physical safety is new,
but I’m gluttonous,
I want to be emotionally affirmed.

I want to be told that this is what I’m worth.
That I too am pretty,
maybe pretty like a girl.
And that I deserve the pretty words
that spill right into her.