a small distance
scented with sage and sandalwood

a soft silence begging for a reach
for a touch 
for the right angle
for the perfect moment 
when he won't derail
when he won't run
when he won't reject
when he will let me have what I want
and be unafraid
and be bold

'let me have what I want' is not the makings of care
is not the root of the tenderness I feel for him

it is the byproduct of my smallness
the Vegemite of my creation
salty and bitter and hateful
and wanting
and greedy
and powerful

I reroute disappointment, reset tracks 
a figure eight of self loathing that ensures he won't be hurt by me
while I eat myself from the inside out
wondering why
chewing and swallowing my pale skin
my stretch marks
my too loud laugh
my never feeling quite good enough
my ignorance
my endless questions
my lack of experience
my vulnerability

He is something to me
something powerful
something important

I will find a way to care about him and not hurt
to reach for him with a closed hand
to not want from him
to not take
to not harm
to listen until his truths become louder
than the sound of my chewing

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