we are in a place between the other places we go, and we are in here together. we are at a time in our lives before we are older, but just after we were too young, quiet and afraid. we can speak ourselves here, briefing before daybreak. shadows flicker on the wall from candles lit too long. drapes hide us from a dreary and cold night. i see us standing out there, too. we shiver, and your teeth chatter from chill, but there are things to see. in here, we only feel. warmth encompasses as it builds a home in which to hold another’s safety. a hand on a cheek is a gift. a mewl in darkness is an invitation to clutch tighter. hardwood flooring, memories hidden on the walls, and
so many small reminders... enough.
your shallow breathings of fitful rest betray a dream you will share come morningtide. i await you eagerly, with a hunger that accepts no meal. it feels good to want. when no longer i want, i am dead. let us let ourselves want more freely. let us grasp at those urges that could be passing if let pass. silence the inner voice that silences.
misery shows us the skyline of constructs on that horizon, makes us visit the city in which we never wish to live. plaintive howlings cast by mere victims of desire, screaming to a wordless sky that they did not ask for this. but is it not now their duty, to uphold the idle musings of their own hearts? were your own closest friend to beg you on bent knee to aid him in his journey for affections, through some mountainous task, would you not lend him your hand? knowing even the lifetime of contentment that may await him, found only in dedication to and with and for another? found only in love? do we not owe this to ourselves, as our own closest friends?
morning light sneaks in through glazed windows like a thief. your eyelids are illuminated and i see the difference in shade between the outside and the crease. i put my lips upon your face because God speaks to me directly, with no filter.