He held my waist low
My center of gravity.
Leaning back against the inset corner
Back arched,
His weight relaxing on me
Cautiously.

It was one of those Spring evenings
About a year ago now.

One of those first Spring evenings,
All the girls and boys out like we were
Side by side, parallel
and warm
In the History or Latin Building.

Lingering, softly and heavily.

It was a year ago now
I’m older now
I’m seventeen now.

You no longer scare me.
You don’t scare me.

You really cared.
(And all this time, it was great because you didn’t)

And yet, I think of that night
Often.
The chill Spring evening.
The shorts and flowing shirts, easily moving, endlessly moving

And how distant you seemed then.
How sure you were of what you wanted.

Slightly facing away, putting your hand cautiously on the small of my back
Then both hands
Empowered
Holding me still.

I say
I hate being held by the neck.
But I often am.