Age ain’t nothing but a number,
so they say
and I thought you knew that too
cause behind closed doors
my fire had you floored,
burning hotter
than any girl half-new.
But I was wrong about you.
That gap meant more
than you ever let me view.
In public you withdrew,
eyes skimming past me
like we never spent the night,
like you weren’t wrecked by my light.
You feared your peers
would sneer: weird
how you wanted
someone older than you.
Funny thing is
after midnight
I was the perfect age
for your cage,
your hunger, your need.
My waist fit your hand perfectly,
your breath in my hair,
your mouth planting heat.
I was “appropriate”
when the lights were low,
but too old to know
when the sun could show.
You gave a f*ck
what people would say
so you hid me in night
and erased me by day.
And I swear I could hear you
say or what I feared was you:
She’s smart, she’s set,
got bills in her name;
I worship her flame
but can’t take the claim.
That’s the story you fed
when your head wasn’t
resting on my bed.