Every man

I have ever connected with

has left me.

Slipped through my fingers

like I wasn’t even holding on.

Like I wasn’t bleeding under the grip.

They come soft,

come sweet,

come with promise in their mouths

and rot in their hands.

Say things like:

“I’ve never felt this before.”

“I think I’m scared too.”

“You’re different.”

And I believe them.

Every time.