Friends with Benefits


We touch each other casually;
a poke in the stomach,
a jab in the side.
I slap your ass when no one is watching
and you look me up and down in
my tube top and mini-skirt like I am
a medium-rare slab of meat.

When we lie on your bed,
you grab my hips when I teeter too
close to the edge;
I hold your hand when I am scared
or cold,
and I lean against your shoulder
when I am lonely, which is more
often than not.

These exchanges are not hidden,
just quiet.
Two flirts existing in the same bubble,
our grins are not war-cries,
merely comfort.
They are public, yet the world does
not seem to care.
They do not care, because
neither do we.

I am ashamed to admit
I am in love with these moments.
Casual lingers and air-blown kisses–
they keep me saner than
you know.
I am in love with what we are,
as long as I do not think
of what we are not.