He asked me if I am good at loving casually 
As he held me in his arms in his bed
Tracing the line of my spine with his fingers 
Up my back to the nape of my neck 

Am I good at loving casually?
I think I have never done anything casually in my life
Every feeling I have is rich like dark chocolate and black cherries 
Hot like a dish I have spilled too much pepper into 
Roaring and fast like a river you have mistaken for a stream 
I pretend I am good at floating on top of the water 
While in reality I have always found myself deeply and undeniably submerged and tangled in the current of everything I feel around me

I’ve thought about it, since he asked 
I wonder if casual would be easier for me
If I moved through life without this yearning to fall in love with each thing around me

Cups of coffee
Sun streaming in the window in the morning 
A friend playing the guitar in the next room over
A glass of wine on the couch 
A kiss on the cheek
Allowing yourself to fall into a moment of vulnerability 
Because even that feeling of nervousness in my gut is another sensation that makes me feel alive 

I remember days when I refused to experience things this way
A time where I separated myself from the sanctuary of my body
Withdrew into the back of my mind
Wrapped my heart up in tin foil and cellophane 
Putting it away to mold into nothingness if it meant nobody could hurt me again

But since those days I have fallen in love again
With myself
With my life
With cups of coffee, sun streaming through the window, quiet chords coming from upstairs, table wine I enjoy for the moment not the flavor, a soft mouth on mine, and no longer pretending I am casual 

I could have told him that
I probably will someday 
But mostly it just matters that I have come home to myself 
Stepped back into the chaos of experiencing my life with spit and fire and passion and light

No, I don’t think I am capable of loving casually
I think I deeply admire that about myself