DISTANT

You have to distance yourself.
You have to give me room to breathe.
You have to let me think my way out of thisrationally
angstfully
sexlessly.

You have to put those legs
somewhere further away from my eyes
and lips
and my involuntarily thrusting pelvis.
I’m shaking here
with far too little control
to get myself safe.
I need to be away
before I do something regretful
and I can’t do it all
let aloe on my own.

Help me.
Douse me in ice water.
Talk about traffic jams
or your menstrual cycle
or just get the hell away from me
but do something
so I can regain control.

Please:
I’d beg
on ended knee
but
I can’t seem to get down.