I used to be on the other side of things. I used to think
that I was only good for emotional support, only good in the friendship role,
that I couldn’t satisfy. Who would be satisfied by me? Only
ever good for one thing: being there, stable, comforting. Now I’m on the other
side. Now the only thing that I’m good for is much more carnal. I am a safe
harbor. Men bury themselves in me to forget the world, to satisfy a longing and
a desire, to lose themselves, wanting to feel alive. Fill me up and leave me
empty. Lying awake and cold. My heart is closing. I’m detaching myself from my
body. Is my service to man best spent on my back? I don’t know what else I have
to offer. I can no longer offer my heart. I’ve squirreled away all of the
pieces that are left in all of the corners of my world, hoping to protect it
from any future hurt, hoping that no one ever puts it back together, praying
that someone will.
The quiet scares me now. In the quiet and the dark, I cry.
An introvert without a home, her comforts gone. The quiet closes in too tightly and I choke on
the dark.
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