"The Ache Between Us"
Student:
You undressed me
without touching a single button
I left soaked not from the rain,
but from your eyes,
from the slow motion of your voice
pressing into my spine.
Now I lie in bed,
my sheets cold where your gaze should've burned.
I tried to read,
to scroll,
to breathe,
but you are everywhere
in the wet silk clinging to my thighs,
in the phantom outline
of your fingers tracing the rim of my wine glass.
Tell me,
did you watch me longer than you should?
Did you see me hesitate in the hallway
on purpose?
Because I did.
I want to be good
I really do
but you're making it hard
to remember who I was
before you looked at me
like I was a secret you'd already claimed.
And when I said goodbye,
I meant:
please stop me next time.
Teacher:
I nearly closed the door.
But you stood there,
hair dripping,
shirt transparent,
eyes blown open like a question I wasn't ready to answer
not with words.
You sipped wine
like it would save you from me.
Poor girl.
You don't even know
you're already mine.
You curled your hands in your lap
like a child
but crossed your legs
like a woman.
Both in one breath.
Dangerous,
ripe.
And I
I am not kind when I want something.
I prepare.
You thought the invitation was casual,
but the wine was warm for a reason,
the lights dimmer by design.
I watched your silhouette like a painting
I wanted to frame
and ruin.
Do you feel it too?
The absence?
The ache?
Because I do.
Even now,
I press my fingers to my lips
and they still taste like the thought of you.
You'll return.
You have to.
Because addiction always finds a way home.