© 2017 Sandra Jean-Pierre

She kissed it once,
the scar

from the top of my
down towards my ass

she remembered my mentioning it,
couldn’t help but see it
when we undressed
for the first time.

I held my breath
unsure of her reaction,
unsure how I must have looked to her – this unconsidered, neglected body.

And she left for a moment,
my heart sinking

only to come back,
taking her place
behind me

“You don’t have to…” I protest

and she is quiet,
she is zen
in meditation
as her warm fingers
trace the slightly raised line

I am sad,
that I have come
to her
like this, in this life:

and I make to wriggle away

holding me still,
she begins

her warm lips,
so soft
so careful,
so deliberate

and it is all I can do
not to cry,
it is all I can do not to give in

“It’s fine.”
Her voice
heavy with desire,
gravelly with need

Let’s loose this flood
let’s loose these fears
let’s loose my love for her

“We’re fine.”

and it is all I can do
to hold on