To the man I couldn’t love

A moment of regret

To the man I couldn’t love. I knew him for one night. He put my head on his shoulder and I finally was all I’ve ever wanted to be: a girl. 

He had whisked me away from a club, fed me his drink and walked me through the streets to a secluded spot on the beach. He held my body and spoke single words to me. He was a man and he made me a woman. 

My body strained against his. The rocks on the beach pierced me, his lips on my cheek were the same. I didn’t kiss him. I wish I did. 

I wish I let him ruin me. I wish I didn’t protect myself so much. What do I do with my womanhood now? He could’ve had his tipsy way with me, he could’ve completed me. 

I was so fierce, so loyal to myself and now I feel all the space I take up, nobody in the corner to feel it with me. 

That night, the water almost met our feet but it didn’t. I was never close enough. I had a man in my arms, a whole one, even if it was just for one night. I could’ve had him forever. I could’ve been a woman forever. 

He was done with me quickly, he walked me back to where he found me and slipped back into the night. He failed in his pursuit of me, not because of his own lack of effort. 

I can not have him and I can not have love, so I’ll have nothing at all.