Pressure

I say no
 and somehow
 no becomes a question.
Again,
 he asks.
Again,
 I hesitate.
Until my voice gets tired
 of being a boundary
 and becomes a yes
 just to make the asking stop.
And he calls it confusing
 because sometimes
 I want closeness,
 sometimes I want his hands,
 sometimes I want to feel loved
but wanting him
 doesn't mean wanting everything.
Sometimes my body stays
 while my mind goes somewhere else.
I close my eyes
 and wait for the moment
 to be over.
And when it is,
 I feel relief
 instead of warmth.
Maybe that's what I've been trying
 not to hear.
Maybe I'm not confused
 about whether I love him.
Maybe I'm confused
 because I've learned
 to mistake giving in
 for wanting.
I don't want to be loved
 because I eventually said yes.
I want to be loved
 when my answer is no.
I want a no
 that doesn't need explaining.
A no that isn't followed
 by “just one more.”
A no that can simply exist
 between two people
 who are supposed to care
 for each other.
And maybe one day
 I'll say yes
 because I mean it
not because
 I ran out of no.