Every Size but Mine

He argued about the proper way to argue

Ran his hand along the grooves

Where she flung plates at his face

Relished the place where her blood stained carpet

She haunted his apartment

Every memory of this girl I had never met

Followed me like a shadow

 

Somehow I thought I could replace her shape

That I could fill in the lines she had drawn

Color his world with crayons

But even when she went missing

There was little room for me

 

There were others

 

Other mechanical movements

Pieces and parts he wanted to fit into

Rub against, brush past

Somehow I thought our connection

Could stretch, could bend, could fill his hollows

But it was never enough

 

We opened up to other lovers

Shared our bedroom, shared our moments

Left nothing secret or sacred

At first, I flung myself at any person, any form

That would make me awaken

I felt freedom in breaking apart women’s legs, sipping them

Unhinging men’s pants, slipping down their hems

Searching for a rhythm in a movement so incongruent

To any relationship I had ever been in

 

But when they left

When the only ones left

Were me and him

Staring at each other across the couch

 

I felt imprisoned