The Beginning That Wasn’t Gentle

The Beginning That Wasn’t Gentle

We did not begin gently.

We did not circle one another

with small words and careful steps.

We leapt,

straight into the ache of memory,

straight into the marrow of truth.

He told me of loss,

I told him of breaking,

and the silence between us

was so raw,

so fragile,

that we filled it with a kiss.

It was not careful.

It was not rehearsed.

It was desperate and human—

two wounded hearts

finding a place to rest for a moment.

Perhaps it was too much for him.

Perhaps he needed something lighter,

a beginning made of laughter,

not trembling confessions,

a kiss placed on soft skin,

not on a wound still open.

I wonder if he left because of that.

I wonder if I asked him

to carry too much too soon.