i don't do relationships

i don't do relationships
especially in the summertime, when heat is a constant tag-a-long
a third wheel reminder that nothing
is pretty all the time, but you
you walked into that room like the whole building must have been designed just so that room could be built and used just so you could someday walk into it
like you wrote the back story, and me?
i've never had that kind of presence.
so when we ended up outside on that hottest summer night
your arms around me like you didn't care i was sweating
licking summer off my neck like it was put there just for you
no one was more confused than i was.
i don't do relationships.
you said you didn't either we gladly shed society's ambitions
of a one night stand turned holy in the presence of a ring
still carrying remnants of lives purchased for pennies a day
i don't do relationships.

two days later we were surprised to find we still liked each other
somehow avoiding the battle we so carefully set up for
i swear you'll lose interest first. they always do.
two weeks later, i still love the way you feel inside me
the bruises you leave when you kiss me because you just
can't
let go. your hand wrapped in my hair
in an effort to release any shards of the careful style i collected myself into
wrapped in my hair so when i leave this room
the whole world knows i just got fucked but i also
like the way your hand rests easy on my hip when we're walking
the way you kiss my forehead even when i'm sweating
even when it's not sexy
and i know i told you i hated gentle, but i was lying
what i meant was i hate pretending, and that's all i've ever gotten
what i meant was i don't believe in caring
inviting heartbreak like you have one to spare in the back somewhere and
i don't believe in love, because it's only ever used me
to get to someone else.

two weeks from now, i still want your arms around me
even if i know that in two weeks more you'll leave me broken
it's worth it
because right now, i'm sweating your scent into jars for safekeeping
rubbed off on my skin from when we tried to fuck and ended up making love
and i know i'll still want it years from now
when we've both changed lovers and scents so often you're only a poem
whispering through my head on hot summer nights when the air
doesn't move
spreads itself thick over my skin in hopes you'll come back to kiss it off
two years from now
i hope you still remember the way your face lit up when i said i liked you back
shuffled shy across pavement so sun ridden it must be melting beneath us
cause it feels like i can't walk fast enough
and i'm scared i won't keep up with you
ten years from now
i hope i still remember the way your eyes crease when you're laughing
which is always
i hope i still remember the way you reached for the back of my neck
and didn't flinch in the obvious presence of august
the way you looked in my eyes before the first time you kissed me

i don't do relationships
especially in the summertime
but if rain has the secret to break the power of heat lightning
maybe mid-august sweat can dampen the edges of our histories
calm the lightning dancing between wanting you
and wanting to be hurt again just to justify my warnings
i don't do relationships.
but i want to wake up next to you
and kiss you before you brush your teeth
just to prove it doesn't matter.
i want to drive all night to spend an hour at your side and drive home again
just so i can do it again tomorrow
sleep in your shirt so i can wake up in the morning
and think that you're there
i don't do relationships, but this time
i want to.

asking for it

see, i was asking for it
lining my eyes with black like the sky already was when i called him
my bathroom mirror still says guilty in black eyeliner letters, but i
called him.
and he came, his own eyes unreadable
focused on the way i painted my lips carefully
so he would know how sweet they tasted, know i wanted him back
even though i said no
no doesn't mean anything when it comes from lips like these
hips like holy on vacation with demons
holy like it's worth the burn if the flame is beautiful enough, i swear
i was still naive enough that night to imagine
that my interpretation of ugliness matched the rest of the world's,
therefore insuring my safety
he leaned closer on the couch and i let him
even when his hand rested dead weight on my thigh
too caught up in tight jeans to notice my tears, i swear
i didn't know he wanted me.

that night i hitchhiked all over town
leaving my car in the driveway and making up stories to protect my name
and nothing else. picked up by someone's mother
imploring me to wear my seatbelt and a better bra
please, she said. be careful. can't you see where you're headed?
i said this corner is fine, waited for the next 22 year old just became a man
and wants to see what i'm hiding under my pants to badly he can barely drive
this, at least, i'm used to
and it's safer than mothers admonishing my deliberate lack of self control
so i lick my lips, slouch further in my seat
to maximize his viewing angle
how far can you take me, boy? just keep driving.

sometime around 2am i stumbled back across the threshold of reality
in the form of your voicemails, stacked up in blinking lights
wondering where the hell i am
you never could trust me to look out for myself
though you knew you could always count on tear stained apologies
pleading lips numb from time spent forced against flesh
rougher than any that could possibly belong inside me
made holy by the way it make you angry to imagine
me, inviting his touch, responding with
scratches down his back, the only skin exposed to my only method of self defense
he said god you're rough, and i said fuck
so he did
and if this is inviting
rape it's of my belief in any god that would make this my fault
because i know that curves mean sex and i got 'em
but that doesn't mean i'll fuck you back
it just means there's more to hold on to, hold me down with
like the first time you ran too fast, lost control and skinned your knee and your mother said
let it bleed.
be careful next time.

careful doesn't stick to lips slick with false security in the form of dollar store lipstick
spread a little too thin over an aching knowledge of one night's worth of future
careful doesn't stick when he's sitting a little too close on the couch
no room for no between friends and fucking
careful is as useless as imagining the world's interpretation of black eyeliner letters
on an empty bathroom mirror

and so now, i'm asking for it
twirling hair between decorated fingertips and leaning forward
into imagined invitations
losing control on purpose so the blame falls squarely on glimpses of my garter belt
my too short skirt dancing in the wind
of our interpretation of the way the world works
i'm painting my lips red enough to hide that i'm not smiling
putting my shame on display, saying
yes, i sway my hips when i walk
lick my lips when i talk
yes, my breasts are full and inviting, still
i will not hide my passion in a bottle like overpriced perfume
saved for special occasions, still
i will be loud and sexy and unafraid
to wear my heart on my sleeve and dare you to touch it
and if this is asking for it
i will never stop begging.