I don’t want a poetic romance I know, that’s a new one it’s hard for folks to understand, sometimes that I don’t want my lover to shine like the sun I don’t need to see stars in his eyes or think endlessly about the soft skin on his thighs because my lover can be whatever he **** well wants
who am I to walk in to fold him into boxes and metaphors like cages my love doesn’t look like yours and if you think that’s an insult take a step back and reconsider what love is what love means
because I call love that feeling that I can’t describe to you because the words don’t exist yet or if they do they’re too simple for you and I to understand
breakfast
umbrella
teardrop
hold
my lover is all these things and more and that is what I love for maybe one day he will no longer be
umbrella
maybe I’ll look at him some time and see that the breakfast in him has faded away and been replaced with something new sand, maybe
poetry romance would tell me that this means something that I must look again look closer tear us apart until I find where it went because in poetry if you love something you must grab it with both hands for fear that it might escape
I’d like to argue that that isn’t love but wanting
my lover is a swimming pool cool and comfortable and jarring at first something from my childhood and my future because we will never stop going to the swimming pool
my lover is unfolded laundry and all those unsightly things that are part of us morning breath nervous sweat before a first date finding out you don’t like the same movies and knowing that it’s okay
I am just a man and so is he and I am breathless with having him and I dare to hope he is knocked breathless with having me