Named.

Ask me
You whispered,
Your quiet voice a throaty mix of
Cigarettes and lust.
Ask me.
I was riding high on the
Chemicals of climax,
The fact that I'd told you only moments before
I'd never call you that name.
Never once did I ever think
The word would escape my lips.
But it did.
It slid across the tip of my tongue,
Teeth tried to lock it away
But it slid out from in between my lips,
Easy,
Easy like four hour conversations,
Easy like the first kiss
Easy, like bumping into someone at a bar.
What is difficult,
Is finding where you belong.
See, I've always categorized people into
Neat little compartments in my head.
You don't fit in neat little compartments,
That much I knew the second I saw you.
And now,
Now you have a name.
I name I wouldn't have given to just anyone.
And I'm not sure if it's just because of the lust,
Or something else.
Maybe it's because there is something primal lurking in you.
And the animal in me
Sees the animal in you.
This isn't about bringing them out,
Because I'm not quite sure if that's where we end up going.
I don't know where we end up going.
I do know,
You asked me to name you.
And I did.
For now I'm happy wondering,
If and When the time comes
If I ask you to name me,
If the notes of your smokey, throaty voice
Will just as easily
Call me by name.