Do you remember that night
we lay flat on our backs,
the dry, dead grass crinkling against
our bare, browned skin and
you lifted my heavy hand,
bending my plump fingers
to-and-fro, like you were testing
how far they could stretch
and I watched the tips never trying
to resist you because that’s how we
were, always my words crashing
into your heart but you
never listened and I never felt
the pressure of your lips hard against
mine as I gasped to get away,
well, do you?
