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To Insecurity in Sexuality

By Faith Diaz 

She sat in class the first day.
Black choker, red hair licking her
neck like flames only attempting to
be contained with a single black hair tie.

As my eyes landed on her body,
She oozed sex from her hip
And salvation in the way her waist connected to them maybe,
it was in the way she turned around and looked up at me;
blue eyes gliding over my face like the clouds moving in the sky,
and her smile always followed:

It started on the right side
and dashed across her face like a lightning strike,
Standing too close would sear it into memory.

Her name was Eden,
“Yes, like the garden.”
She’d say.

She was god’s curse-wrapped-lesson
just for me.

Soon, she was everywhere
my thoughts ran to before my mind
could catch its breath enough to follow.

I would have reached up into the universe,
pulled down the sun, and cast the world into eternal darkness Just
to have her brush against my leg as she walked passed.

And to this day, I know the moment she had my heart –
In the girls locker room, she was standing in front of me
discussing how acid was perfect for unlocking the truths of the soul,
Just like that she sucked me
in: she stirred up hunger like I stirred my coffee in the morning,
love like it was a new concept, and passion like I was the question and
she was my answer.

I gave myself over for her devour.
The destruction she caused to my conscience
made the devil envious.

The problem was, I was a quiet bisexual girl at the time;
Confident in everything except myself.
Eden could make the weather change for her.

So I studied and played all of her games:
when she wanted me to look at her, I gazed;
when she wanted me to tell a story, I performed;
when she wanted me to get high with her, I inhaled, deep,
licking the taste off of my lips wishing it was her instead.

And one night that was my plan,
to stay with her
until the world realized
it would never be the same;

Until we both realized we were damned.

We stood in a smoky, crowded, college apartment
And like I saw her do with others; she turned towards me, flipped
her candy apple red hair to the right, licked her pink lips, and
chose me.

But I was quiet bisexual girl at the time,
out of touch and practice.
And when she asked me if she would be coming home with me,
my mind caught ahold of my thoughts too late,
the alcohol seeped into my throat and took my voice box hostage,

I froze.

I just wanted to be sure,
that my thoughts were clear enough to remember when I placed her,
expectantly, in my lap, legs wrapped around my side
and carried her into my dorm room.

Wanted to be sure, that when I placed my hands on the small of her back,
where her grey jacket ended and before her black jeans began,
I touched it just lightly enough to make her shiver,
Wanted to be sure, that she remembered what it meant

to give herself over to Faith.

As these images fought for 1st place in my imagination,
In my hesitation and silence, my uncertainty,
She Left.

I should have held you, Eden.
I should have given you the moon.


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