What is the world come to when the first hand touched another
unassumed, unassuming, unassumingly,
How do I tell you the world is everywhere when you
How do I tell you I cannot capture my fear
How do I tell you that the heavens are but avenues for your splendorous rage,
mystifying gaze.
I promised myself I would be true to myself when I saw you look at a version of me I was just seeing,
I pinched myself when I saw myself falling and falling for you in a New Hampshire motel
Which is why sometimes I hate writing, I am scared of writing, lest what I feel cannot be articulated
what it feels to hold your body at 3AM, lulled by the rub of skin on skin
We can be full of life as we are I agree
and yet there is a life that I see with you that I cannot unsee, nor do I want to, that I cannot have seen
that could not be seeable were it not for our togetherness, and I see it in way that’s so certain it’s uncertain
The world can be cruel or kind or many things in between, we know too well,
and even so, all the things that it is, you and I being so as we are is all I want.