Someone should’ve told me what I would give before I got undressed. The movies and television tell such shallow, enticing lies. There was so much more than pleasure and blood. Blood racing through these veins faster and faster.
Someone should’ve told me how I would expose myself. How the clothes covered not just flesh but my insides. Prying them open with teeth and lips. You got greedy, didn’t you? Scooping the insides so feverously. Snipping the final thread of inhibition. “I love you too.” Someone should’ve told me how high I would be. A fleshy piece. How a human being could manage to coagulate all the air to pool inside my chest. To feel a death defying squeeze wrapped around my lungs that would make me smile over and over.
Someone should’ve told me that I would start using it as bribery. How I’d unknowingly exploit the high to lure a need to reciprocate with an obligation. An obligation to stay. Stay with me. Please. I feel the squeeze again; ready to murder in a glowing red rage of fire. Make it stop. Kiss me and just make it stop. “I promise I can be better for you.” Someone should’ve told me I would beat my chest and howl to the heavens swearing to a God I never cared for. “Where are you going?” Someone should’ve told me you could be so far when you’re right next to me.
Someone should’ve told me that I get dressed alone.
Someone Should’ve Told me Before I Lost my Virginity…