Piety

I realized the picture of us was sitting next to the bed and inhaled quickly.
“Are you alright?”, David asked.
I moved my gaze from the picture
and onto his face.
I could barely make out his features in the half light.
Instead of responding I leaned into him again,
our bodies pressing warmly together.
His kisses were soulful, yet at the same time,
hungry, feverish, carnal.
He let out a soft groan as I pushed myself atop him.
I looked at him again and could see his face more clearly this time.
I barely knew this person,
this big-bodied man.
When I stood next to him I felt childlike,
my round blue eyes wide as I stared up at him.
My booty call was much my intellectual superior as well;
I knew there was no way I could trump his passion for Palestine,
but I still had hope.
He asked me if Bundy was always this loud (it was 3 am)
and I replied with a yes and with a kiss.
Again, I thought about you, my best friend
who was supposed to look out for me in situations like this
so I wouldn’t get hurt.

What would you think if you knew if I fell in a hole at Spanish house?
Or that I’ve begun to give my body so freely?
What would you think of me with a man so much older, naked in my bed?
Why did you have to go off to a Christian school with so much piety,
While I have been reduced to this hedonistic lifestyle of second dinners with Indians,
dorm parties with Leif,
Coronas, Wicked Brews, Jungle Juices,
G’Ra and Nathaniel walking me home half naked
and exposed?

“David,” I whispered into his ear.
“What?”, he questioned and then asks again if I am okay.
I don’t respond because I don’t have anything to say to this man
who I argued with over text this summer
while I sat simply and innocently, alone.