Lauren

\"I Haven\'t Shaved My Legs.\"

The first, second, third time we met

it was there.

Some indescribable need, at least on my part.

We learned interesting things

about one another

and laughed, scowled, tutted

in the process.

 

And finally, finally, among friends

we realised

that we were more beautiful together

as we talked about poetry and literature

while the rest talked nonsense

fuelled by alcohol.

 

We spoke as though no one was more interesting than us

and our eyes, lips, skin met

with a need

a hunger

as though the smell of rum and cigarettes were the smells of a rare flower,

and we left.

 

Company deserted, we stumble

onto the hard bed, I fall

but barely notice.

We work together

unhinge, unzip, unbutton

and peel away layer upon layer of clothes -

it\'s cold outside,

don\'t laugh.

 

It could be love, or lust

or madness

but in the throes of passion

and, apparently, in societies grip, I stop

and from my mouth almost tumbles the word

Sorry.”

 

I haven\'t shaved my legs.

In this moment

I shake.

For if society can reach me at my highest,

my happiest, my most courageous -

at my point of ecstasy

then what has it done,

then when has it snuck in,

then how many times has it subtly changed my experiences

at my weakest?

 

You barely notice my turmoil

and that\'s fine.

I notice,

I know.

Now, hush

Lay down.

 

It\'s my turn on top.