Tue 8 Apr
with 1,237 notes
Tue 8 Apr
havingapoemwithyou:

Not Doing Something Wrong Isn't the Same as Doing Something Right Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz In my defense, my forgotten breasts. In my defense, the hair no one brushed from my face. In my defense, my hips. Months earlier, I remember thinking that sex was a ship retreating on the horizon. I could do nothing but shove my feet in the sand. I missed all the things loneliness taught me: eyes that follow you crossing a room, hands that find their home on you. To be noticed, even. In my defense, his hands. In my defense, his arms. In my defense, how when we just sat listening to each other breathe, he said, This is enough. My body was a house I had closed for the winter. It shouldn’t have been that difficult, empty as it was. Still, I stared hard as I snapped off the lights. My body was a specter that haunted me, appearing when I stripped in the bathroom, when I crawled into empty beds, when it rained. My body was abandoned construction, restoration scaffolding that became permanent. My body’s unfinished became its finished. So in my defense, when he touched me, the lights of my body came on. In my defense, the windows were thrown open. In my defense, spring.ALT

not doing something wrong isn’t the same as doing something right by cristin o'keefe aptowicz