I spent most of my life not saying.
But you let me say it.
Over and over you implored me to say it.
I screamed love, hate, confusion.
I begged. I weeped.
Words poured out of me, staining your bed.
And then you reached in further to pull out more.
Over and over again, your eyes smiled wordlessly
while I arched my back and you went deeper inside
to pull out a bellow, a wimper, one more sigh.
You let me tell you with my body
the language of lust that straight girls won’t discuss.
You let me show you with my hands
the things for which there are no words.
You let me breathe
through the most choking moments of my life
with barely a flinch.
And you still call me pretty.
So I can take a turn now.
What is it you need to say, darling?
Or NOT say?
You taught me to speak,
and I now I am ready to listen.


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