I rediscovered my legs
But this time without a man between them
for the longest of times, and as a man, I saw myself only as sandwiched between the duvet covers, the black sheets and a mans growth inside me
And now that they’ve all left and all I have is myself, I’ve come to realize that I as a man am enough
That i don’t need his scent or saliva in my mouth
Or the sweet sensation and warmth of skin as he turns me from lying on my back to erect on my knees just to enter me
As a man with multiple bags invisible to the eye, but heavy on the heart, am capable of loving without drowning in his semen
That I’m capable of love without forcing connection
That I am a man
And I don’t need another to whisper sweet nothings for me to believe my worth
That I’m a man even though extremely and nauseatingly feminine
That even with a man in between my legs, his saliva in my mouth, and during the suffocation from his semen ... am enough
As a man,
rejected by others beyond the four walls of the bedroom
And that I’m worthy of love even if it means at times it’s warped
