Stonewall

Arms that only know how to hold (you)

Have to learn to fold

Themselves to the side of my body

Tucked between sheets

And under pillows

Anywhere but around you.

Hands that held palms and fingers 

That soothed an aching head back knee or ankle

With a sure (and vested) touch

Now is held against my face

Is holding a pen

Is frantically cleaning the house

Because it doesn't know what to do when it's not polishing your skin to a warm brown.

Legs that wrapped themselves around one leg or two

around  a waist

Over a shoulder

Against a back

Now stretches as far as it can go

And they go nowhere important.

Yes this body needs to learn to rearrange itself.

These eyes have to find some other place; not your face

The lips need to give up their dependence on lips and fingers and chest and brow

The tongue needs a new language because it speaks only of your gentle touch and awkwardness.

Every part of me feels withdrawn parched and bereft

Of every part of you.

But i need to win this battle

Me not you.

Because otherwise you'll continue to kiss close-mouthed

Turn away from my reaching out hands

Move me away when i get closer

Run. Shrink back. And make a quick escape.

Rejection is hard but rebuilding is more so.

But i am starting with rebuilding.

i am starting with me.