I sit frozen on the couch,
arm around her shoulders.
It is time to take the Next Step
but I am too afraid to move.
The seconds tick off my embarrassment,
hang from my eyes like tears of lead,
dragging me down, down.
There is no way forward
and no going back,
so we sit
frightened boy
impassive girl
stone statue that I am supposed to want
to touch,
that I do want to touch.
Nothing comes from her
no help
no clue
no welcome
no warmth
yet for fifteen years I will hate myself
for not being able to make love
to a succulent corpse.
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