Tidal

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Author’s Note:This poem explores intimacy and sexuality in a raw and explicit way. Please only read further if you feel comfortable engaging with erotic content.

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My hand between my legs,

fingers sliding over my clit,

circling, pressing—

heat swelling fast—

hips pushing into it like I’m starving.

I’m wet and open,

pelvis rocking,

moaning into the empty room—

god—

there—

the surge—

the clit pulsing hard under my fingers—

orgasm tearing through my hips,

down my thighs,

up my spine—

and then—

the collapse—

legs falling wide,

hand still resting there,

my cunt throbbing slow and deep.

Tears come before I can stop them.

Not delicate—

gut-deep sobs that wrack my whole body,

salt and snot and wet lips—

crying like something inside me

finally stopped pretending it was fine.

The part of me that manages,

calculates,

keeps watch—

is gone.

Shoulders loose.

Belly soft.

Chest flung open.

I’m alone with myself in the most dangerous way—

unguarded.

Lovers I never had

and the ones I lost

pour back into me.

Every touch I’ve ever wanted

collapses into this one.

I rock and cry,

hips still trembling,

fingers brushing myself as if to say,

it’s alright, it’s alright—

until the ocean inside me

is wrung dry.

Nothing left to hold.

Nothing left to hide.