Primary by Evan Michaels

There you lay,

Brown and warm and bare,

Careless.

You are mine.

Once, I prayed

For you, prayed

For this moment.

This touch.

You are not my first, though

You are primary.

Before you

Another swept me away.

Pretty blue mohawk,

Sharp, pale shoulder blades,

He kissed with his teeth rather than with

His smoky lips.

But he was my first;

Him I cannot shake.

You, Adam.

He still wasn't

You.

Ericka told me

How she fed you that lie

About how she

Split from me.

Truth is,

That morning I woke

To the rhythm of

His hands, his tongue, his control--

It dawned on me.

I told her the truth, even

How I liked him

Sucking my dick.

How I liked him

Better than I liked

Her.

When Ericka lied,

She did not know

About me loving you,

Nobody did.

But she did not lie

To protect herself;

She only lied to spare you

From seeing me

The way I saw myself.

I am Grendel who sleeps

With Beowulf's blade

Down my throat.

I know

You know

How much

I love you.

This Christmas, though,

I have to be honest

And

Tell you my truth.

You are not my first.

You are my primary.

You are mine.