Miss Trust

Then I became an adult
a mere woman stuck in adolescence
confused with her sexual self
do I give or do I receive
is it mine or is it his
am I fucking or am I being fucked?

Time goes on a circle unending
as seconds turn to minutes turn to hours
days months years
eyes burning with tears
because sex has become part of every relationship
without it maybe I won’t be wanted
like a drug I just can’t say no

My body my self my vagina
it screams for attention and won’t be ignored
but she is not me
just a part
sometimes acting without heart
an unemotional appendage
who just wants what it wants when it wants it
until if feels good
then she retreats
leaving me to clean up the mess left behind

What does this have to do with trust?
Why, everything
for the initial sexual experience
sets the stage for every act which follows
so the most beauteous intimate
binding display between man and woman
must be carried out within an atmosphere of

Truth
Respect
Undeniably
Soul-
Tied

Not to be taken lightly, nor given indiscriminately
for without trust
there is no unity
where trust exists
a union becomes tighter than a clenched
Fist
stronger than a braided
Rope
and sturdier than a welded
Pipe
undoubtedly bigger than
any four-lettered word

Myla Jones–2002