- there was always a parent coming home in half an hour - always someone in the next room.
Always too much body and not enough time for me to show it.
Instead, I gave him my shoulder, my elbow, the bend of my knee
- I lent him my corners, my edges, the parts of me I could afford to offer
- the parts I had long since given up trying to hide.
He never asked for more.
He gave me back his eyelashes, the back of his neck, his palms
- we held each piece we were given like it was a nectarine that could bruise if we weren’t careful.
We collected them like we were trying to build an orchid.
There was no secret I didn’t tell him, there was no moment I didn’t share
- and we didn’t grow up, we grew in, like ivy wrapping, moulding each other into perfect yings and yangs.
We kissed with mouths open, breathing his exhale into my inhale -
we could have survived underwater or outer space.
Breathing only of the breathe we traded
I never wanted to hide my body from him -
if I could, I would have given it all away with the rest of me - I did not know it was possible.