Hunger

‘I’m hungry,’ you told me,

Walking together into a restaurant for the first time.

You have no idea, I thought.

 

I’m drinking a PBR with friends,

Trying not to think about you,

To show everyone around me your picture,

To flush when I mention your kiss.

 

But all day- no, all week-

There’s been a hunger inside of me

And I don’t know how to pretend

That I’m not starving.

 

You are irresistible when you smile wide,

Eyes bright and squinted;

When you ask me ‘what the fuck did you order?’

Because the barista is taking too long;

When you laugh at Michael Scott,

Quiet at first, and then eruptive, colossal;

When you joke, sarcastically,

‘I’ve had a plan to get you in your underwear for months;’

And when you do, indeed, you look at me,

Both of us spent,

And I’m ravenous once again.

 

I think you know you’re charming-

I think perhaps you’ve perfected it, a surefire attack

For women like me, rooted in disillusionment and disinterest.

I don’t think you need my compliments,

For you’ve heard them before,

Are hearing them after I leave and before I arrive.

You are terrifying in your appeal.

I am terrified of this new appetite.

 

‘I love you’ ‘I know.’

‘Plan A was marrying her a long time ago.’

The lines spoken by fiction

But so felt by us- us, not only me.

I felt the way you sighed into my neck after each line.

And damn it, I feel the way you look at me,

As if I’m every happy memory suddenly remembered.

I feel you pinching my cheeks,

Even when you’re gone.

 

A week of knowing your kiss and I’m crumbling,

Already vulnerable and afraid (I’m too proud to type ‘fucking horrified’).

There we were on the couch,

Clutching one another as if you weren’t already inside of me,

As if both of us weren’t sore from one another,

As if we weren’t nearly close enough.

‘I desire you even when you are a part of me.’

 

How pure and blissful these nights seem now,

Uncorrupted by time and inevitable ends.

I already detest the day I laugh

In attempts to dismiss it all as unworthy:

The borrowing of books,

The playing of Twilight Princess,

Falling off of your couch as you tickled me,

Playing with one another on the floor until we kissed in a fury,

Laughing, smiling, staring, shaking our heads in disbelief,

Waking up to you singing at 5:30am,

Laughing at book titles in the library, disruptive,

All of this that we’ve shared in only a week:

How fast will it all disintegrate?

Why am I so confident that it will?

 

It’s unnatural to feel this much hunger.

To wonder about you, always, and to smile at my phone.

To want to know, at every second, that you’re here,

In this disgusting infatuation that permeates.

To wake up at 4:30am and want you so badly

That I couldn’t help but touch you.

To refuse to go back to sleep once we’re both awake

Because I hadn’t heard your laughter in hours…

 

And I was hungry tonight,

Scared and jealous and worried,

Petrified to be vulnerable.

A hunger so powerful it drove me to shame:

Passing by your house, searching,

As if that or anything else could ease this transition,

At once messy and clean,

Natural and what-the-fuck is happening?

I feel so pathetically in need that it burns.

 

I’ll make a confession:

This isn’t me being hungry or even ravenous.

It’s me being carnivorous.

 

 

‘I’m hungry,’ you told me.

You have no idea.

 

 

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