When I decide to go to bed with you,
Will I be with an image of you?
Or the realness of you?
Knocked off our honeymoon-sweet pedestals.
Swept-off into great leaps that lead to our pitfalls,
from grace…
or is it actually into this space?
As we both find our resting place.
You—
no longer my white-horsed, knight-in-shining armor.
I—
no longer your too-nice, fair-maiden, pining, enamored.
But simply ourselves,
being seen,
our humanity, redeemed.
Will my hair be a mess,
or perfectly styled to impress?
As we begin to undress,
will you smell of the day,
or be freshly showered & shaved?
Will we both be brave,
as we stand there?
Will we accept the skin within,
beneath, above, below, behind…
as well as the ones we wear?
Will we have had our first fight,
or second, or maybe more?
Will you have seen me cry,
and I you,
before casting our clothes on the floor?
Will we have shared our deepest secrets,
and made them our own?
Will we go slow, or fast,
with our clothes all a-strewn?
Will I be sure of what I like about you,
and you of me?
Will there be things I don’t like?
And the same goes for you, of me?
Will we feel free to tell each other these things?
Or is this something we even need to do or see?
Because maybe this is all just a simple passing fling.
And all that’s left to do is just give into our ecstasy.
Will we have shared enough time?
Will we have become drunk yet over wine?
Will I know your despair?
And you know mine?
Will you have shared how you care,
as I caressed your dark, curly hair?
Will we know when to give space,
in place of potential hate?
Will we know that we are both human,
simply being as we’ve been made?
Will you have seen me bleed?
If so, did you help?
Or did you stand back,
and watch me in need?
Will you know my clumsy,
watched me trip & go tumbling?
Will I have seen food in your teeth,
or wiped it from your cheek?
When we decide that it’s time,
to sleep together our first time,
will we be with real reflections of us,
or fantasy-filled projections of our lust?
Or will we have had the strength in mind,
to accept that we are somewhat blind,
and to go to bed instead,
naked bare,
truth laid there,
accepting the best we can do is care.
Will I truly see you,
and you truly see me?
Willing & humble,
in our humanity,
as we willfully stumble,
down the path of intimacy.
And afterward, we may find,
staring each other face-to-face,
our bodies intertwined,
we lay there in our embrace,
searching our eyes for any kind of trace…
When we decide to go to bed,
into our bodies and out of our heads,
was it with the fairy-tale of us,
or the realness we’ll come to trust?
Or both.
Or neither.
In need of a breather.
Finding…
there’s always something more to explore,
and less we want to confide and confess.
But in reality lies,
the distorted truths,
we use to disguise,
our troubled youths,
that haunt,
and we aim to hide,
instead of being our truth,
we remain shy.
If I go to bed with you now,
I request,
and I vow,
it be with the realness of me,
unabashedly free.
Now, dearly beloved,
Are you willing?
To. Meet. Me.
Menstrala School 