Makeshift Lovers

A never ending cycle

I don’t want to trust, so I won’t trust you

I don’t like to be touched, so I won’t let you touch me

We get to know each other; a month or less is the amount of time needed

And suddenly on an opportune night I find you in my bed. 

 

Your arms come around me, your body above mine

The inkling of fear doesn’t match the languid state of my body

Your lips find mine, despite my half-hearted attempts to pull away

The empty bottle betrays where my courage originated.

 

Passion, although kept in check, begins to build

My better judgment gives way to the relief of not feeling alone

Slow, reassuring circles on my arms and back

We know there are still boundaries; a warm body is all we need.

 

I feel beautiful, sexy, desirable

The catch in your breath as I drag my nails along your skin

Matches the graze of your teeth on my flesh

You are my makeshift lover.

 

I don’t remember why I don’t want to trust, so I trust you

You touch so well, so I allow you to touch me

We get to know each body; only a night is the amount of time needed

And daringly on a hazy night I keep you in my bed.

 

Soon you move to other parts of my body

Push the set boundaries just a little more

You make an offhand comment, a joke, testing my resolve

I remove your hand several times until you finally understand.

 

Getting creative, you find the grey areas of my limits

It’s not so bad, I don’t want to hurt your feelings

But you’re too greedy, and I realize you’re doing it on purpose

You are only a makeshift lover.

 

Around 4AM you leave, kissing my forehead

I drift away, sleeping off the rest of the Fireball

In the morning I have hopes of a relationship

After a day or a month I know that this will not happen.

 

With only one ex boyfriend, you thought I was inexperienced.

How else do you think I can kiss so well?

Rare nights of withheld passion are familiar to me.

And makeshift lovers are all I am worthy of.

 

I won’t want to trust, so I won’t trust him

I won’t like to be touched, so I won’t let him touch me.

We’ll get to know each other; a month or less is the amount of time we’ll need.

And suddenly on an opportune night I will find the next one in my bed.  

Author's Note

I'm not a poet. These words are just what I feel. No editing was placed into this piece.