Waiting for a Hero

His lips were stronger than I 

imagined. His grip, firm

enough to calm my quivering.

Fingers delicately traveled 

the long edge of my back

and as limbs entwined 

I was so sure this was 

gonna be something.

I can't deny how funny

we are together, and how 

our Jewish roots bind us. 

He takes that tucked away 

part of me and invites it to play.

But how much fun do we have

before we embrace vulnerability

let it become a foundation

and maybe a serous one.

Sometimes it just doesn't come. 

I've dismissed my propensity

to form heroes, and instead, see 
emotionally wounded men 

have lost their vision of love.

How long do I wait 

before I know with certainty

there may be nothing more 

to wait for?