By Ashlye Ventura

He’s familiar with every inch of my skin

But my favorite color always seems to be too intimate for him.

And if I were to ask him when my birthday is,

He would probably stutter and drown in hesitation

Somehow I know him from the inside out, but he never even bothered to acknowledge that I was a human being too.

Another kiss on the forehead meant something more to me.

I wonder what it felt like to be kissed without expectations

Without sensation or the aggression.

I wonder what it felt like to be loved just for the sake of being loved.

Not when I was undressed or on my knees.

Or in any other form that isn’t anything that I already am

but the lights turned on.

Snapping back into reality, waiting for your text

to see you again.