Consent

That space between skin:
Lifting the other person away and closer,
Up and up into smooth depths
Of our lives meshing together.
Built up over time,
Resting in infamy,
As though you’re a part of me
And we’re not flesh and blood.
Idealized potential of a submissive act;
Idolized beauty of a subversive spine
Clawing its way under your eyes
So the view is more alive,
More untrue,
Than ever before.
More of your own than mine.
It’s more than you’re seeing that’s there.
Our insight only goes so far,
But the invasion curbs a hunger
That can only be felt in the act.
And our actions require simplicity.
Our movements require support,
For if you were to shift without me
There’d be nothing left to lean on.
There’d be nothing left of my legs
And everything to cling to.
We’re dipping from the side
And colliding into a space that’s small
Soft and damp
Strictly cut into lines
A collision of nerves
Bristling hair stuck on edge
Chills glazed over weak muscle
Salt water sterilizing cheeks
Of roses and autumn leaves.
Thighs stuck together,
Glued with guilt
Fueled by bottomless oceans
And trampled toes
Is there a way out for us?