Our eyes are the only stars
Under this blanket of nighttime pitch,
Yet we find each other here again and again.
Our delicate selves touch firmly, surely,
Tracing our merging outlines each night
In my dreams
.
May 3, 2025
I turn your chair to face me
Press you into the back
Collapse onto you
In a trusting embrace
Breathing deeply, your cotton shirt
Feels so soft against my cheek
Smelling of safe comfort
And stable familiarity
…
One hand presenting to the gaze
Tracing careful teases
The other partially concealed
Buried in secrets…
bury yourself / in hidden places /
every forceful exhale / purging doubts /
…
I’ve been doing my best
through this weakness
this deformity
you know and appreciate this
and you’ve been so good
so generous and patient
with these damaged goods
…
I have no great preoccupation with romance.
I have no deep obsession with the physical satisfaction
that’s only a small, perhaps even optional part
of our experiences connecting us as human beings.
Some only care about interlocking body parts:
…
How scattered am I in thought
How blind am I with anticipation
How fortunate am I to command
That mouth bringing mountains to my door
…
I wonder what it feels like for the other kind
Both so close and so far from me
…
you will wait / I will make you wait / sometimes I don’t wanna be nice …
Let’s log each encounter
With a notch on a bedpost
How long before there’s nothing left of this frame
But shredded wood
Looking like some kind of weird, secretive art installation
No one will understand but us