The Matriculation of Saying Something Vulnerable to Your Lover

Turning it over in my mind
I come to a place of stopping
It feels like the end of evening
Sudden darkness after the dimmed church stained glass of satined Midnight Blue.

Sometimes it's okay to hold hands
And sometimes it isn't.

Trying to learn the rules while I hand you the ice scraper
So you can do the work of removing the car from the parking lot
On your wet knees

We have chocolate chip waffles.

My cheek buried in your chest
And we are dry and the bed is warm
And shadows dance on the projection screen you hang from your mostly unused closet

I wonder if saying 'I love you' is...

The word "appropriate" hangs dry on my top lip
A piece of chapped skin and I want to pull it off
Because of anarchy and feminism and beyond-ness,

But I have never been the first one to say the words.