Rush

it was so sweet. 
it was luscious. 
it was a french kiss from the inside. 
it was a car crash. 
it was a return to me. 
a finding of who i really am. 
it was an inhale exhale intercourse that i could not get enough of, but paced myself anyway.
it was love.
it was everything i’d been missing and more. 
it was milky, creamy and smooth. 
i relished in it and tried not to feel guilty about just how happy it made me, really. 
it was sexy. 
it made me feel beautiful, beautiful for the first time in a very long time. 
it made me feel graceful. 
it made me feel better. 
it was soft and almost fragile. 
it was a plane crash with no survivors. 
a culmination of everything that i thought died in me, resurrected like a phoenix from the ash. 
it was a slow rise. 
it was dense in its embrace, and carried me inside myself. 
immediately it became my secret. 
clean and crisp, folded up in my pocket. 
each line telling truths. 
like how this could be the beginning of the end of me. 
and how i hope it’s not. 

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