We are aimless and we marvel at how pain arrests.

We speak of so many things when we are together. Some important and some not.

With you I find my stress and sorrow become part of some other day; Some other continent bridged by the curves of pretty rounded vowels.

I am curious about you.
Still.
I always have been.

I find myself asking plainly for your time
and room to discover who you are becoming.

Sometimes I’m too timid to bring my hand to my heart where it should be.
I’m not a very convincing patriot.

We fear losing our mystery,
we fear losing what makes us compelling strangers.

I want to stumble to rhythm of your life and know my own response to it; moving up from the soles of my soul along the sinew of my thighs, through my rib cage- weightless and luft and bereft of worry. I want to dance, dance, dance with you loose in limb, free in spirit, heart as open as a quicksilver prayer, back like a flexible reed, bending to your music.

Palms outstretched as if the air could be shaped and kneaded into loaves.
Eyes closed, head back, body white hot with strobe light.

I want to fuck you for days, and days, and days on end.
I love sex and I love to engineer.

I want to reinvent you. I want to reinvent myself for you.

I’m delighted and willing to try so many new things, whether it be the intercourse/main course/discourse of our words, or those raw moments together, when at last our bodies are able to fit flush.

Essentially ignoring your desires backfires, because even on the highest ground, swamps eventually do prevail.

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