Could You Still

My chest hurts, like I'’ve smoked too many cigarettes. My body has that alien feeling of heavy anxiety. I've bitten up my lips and my fingernails are chewed down to the quick. I haven'’t been very okay, lately, I mean. I have, but not really. Not on the inside, not in my head. I know you know what I mean; I know you can tell just to look at me. You always could.
Could you still?
She says to me that the sex we have blows her mind. She says to imagine the most beautiful, perfect goddess, then imagine that goddess allowing you to touch her, to make love to her, imagine that goddess also touching back. I smile softly and she says that that is what our sex is to her. I think to myself, I don't need to imagine. I have those memories....
I like that I never had to explain. I like that I didn't need to break down. You just took it from me, even if I with held. Even as I was unable. You'd cast one sideways look at me and you took what hurt, what didn't make sense. You untangled my mess of internal confussion. Oh, hey, by the way ~ thank you.