blue it's a good thing we don't talk about what could have been. or what could be. if you wanted me, you just took what you wanted. if i wanted you, we both knew it. hesitation, fear, self-editing, self-consciousness, they all equate to regret.
better to ask forgiveness than permission. better to do than to wonder. i'll never regret you or what i did. it rips me open in the morning more cleanly than the sunrise, waking to remember my dream of the night before. there you were, and i was so close, my hands were on your face. we fit together. you did what i wanted but couldn't say; i did what you wanted but couldn't say.
we both knew: sigh, breathe, exhale, release, explode. but so much changes, so much gets ripped down, and people come and go, come and go.
i want to talk about how it felt to me to have my hands on you and your hands on me. just today, in filtered gray light, the sheets said shhhh as i moved towards you sleeping, said shhh as i brought my hands around your body, said shhh as i started to do what i had been thinking of all night, woke you in the way you like it. shhh,