Brad draws back the quilt and I slither
beneath it, into his arms. I was hoping
you’d come. Now he’s kissing me, and
it’s nothing like how Trey kisses at all.
But it’s good. Great. And his strength
becomes mine. But before we do
more, I have to tell him, “I know
this isn’t right, but I need you.”
And he says, We need each other.
How can that be wrong? I still love
Angela, and I know you love Trey.
Can’t you and I love each other too?
I haven’t thought past loving Trey,
never considered loving someone else,
especially not at the same time.
Can I love more than one person?
Would that make me love Trey less?
I have no answers now, need no
answers now. Except one.
“Are you saying you love me?”
He Doesn’t Answer
Not with words, as if
vocalizing his response
would give it too much
weight. His silent reply
is heavy enough.
Silent, but for the shush
of skin against skin;
the sigh of heightened
senses; the exclamation