I touched his cheek

I lent in and

touched his cheek.

I felt his shame.

We’d only met

in the flesh,

an hour ago.

But this is an old connection.

I looked in his eyes

and I lent in

and

touched his cheek.

I felt the draw to his

other cheek.

The left.

The feminine.

But as I lent in…

Unsafe,

to have me,

touch it.

And I danced my hand away.

I caught the sense of his thought,

that I’d pulled back

because I was not ready.

And I didn’t correct him.

I stopped short

of touching the shame he felt about me.

We’d only just met,

again.