i sit in this little room

made for me but not for me

and i don’t know if god is with me

i find excuses for my shyness

and land on foreign hands on a young body

reasons why i am not enough,

reasons why i am too much

i am afraid

that the taste of you was never mine to keep


that the taste of him

is on the tip of my tongue

almost tangible enough

for the truth to take on some clarity

foreign hands on my body,

robbed of reckless abandon

before i learned to tie my shoelaces

your hands on my body

we grow into adulthood

i grow inward, timid

i am not enough, i am too much