In Between

Would your mother be okay if she knew?

That you were up all last night,

trying to convince me,

to make love in your room?

With your lipstick on my neck,

and your skirt riding up,

with all your lies laying in between,

the sheets and your inner thighs.

 

Would your father be proud,

if he knew that you had me pinned

under your weight, with your hand exploring?

While you whispered in my ear,

“Let’s go all the way.”

And my protests were futile,

as you stole my breath with your

bright blue lipstick.

Diamonds on your teeth,

and fake press on nails digging

into my hip bones.

 

Would your preacher approve?

If he knew what your hands,

have been touching?

How you cohered me,

dragged me to your mattress.

Pushed me down, palms against ribs.

Flesh catching in between skin and bone.

Teeth popping through the frail,

covering of my veins.

 

Would the world be ashamed?

If they knew how your hand,

slid to my inner thigh,

told me that I was beautiful?

How you wouldn’t let me go,

and in between my eyes,

you could see the universe?

Would they care?

For all of this lays,

in between.

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