lover, what i wouldn't give
to whisper "te quiero, te quiero, te quiero",
until my lips tire of the exertion and i say it with
my fingers parting your glistening salt-bleached hair
and my arms unearthing the architecture of your
broad-shouldered back—making landmarks
of the isthmi and gently sloping dunes like
a pilgrim in some pristine promised land,
affirming all he knows to be his
my sweet sweet summer child, my beautiful boy,
i might've laughed when you told me you thirst for
the lingering burn of houston sun on your face
but i understand all too well now, cariño;
because you set alight a thousand little fires
within my heart of hearts, immolate me
when you let me hike your shirt and
lay my stone-cold hands on your body,
and it is as if i am beholding some blue-hot star
i abstain from you, and i sip you in moderation
because i fear i will come to live for what you ignite in me
the knowing that we're here and we're here and we're here.
for in you, i have found port and asylum, safe harbor
where i can drop anchor, moor my wayfaring ship
lover, my quietly brooding daydreamer,
you need not feign nonchalance around me:
your laughter is spring rain and i wish to bathe in it,
your stoic shoulder some perennial rock to rest my stubbled chin,
and i am but some wide-eyed child, stunned into wonderment
by the blessing that is you,
lover, to call you sweet would be to dishonor you:
the words you hand-pick for me are savory as dew-glazed herbs, and i relish the taste of them from your mouth;
together, might we burn sage? make a home together?
fill hearth and hearts?
i see my god in you, and in earnest, i pray:
that i have found continuity, something real and
alive and domestic as it is spontaneous, because
this is a love i will feed daily as if it were my child
my old soul knows yours by tens of names
pero ninguno tan hermoso como iván.
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 11:37 PM UTC
lover, what i wouldn't give
to whisper "te quiero, te quiero, te quiero",
until my lips tire of the exertion and i say it with
my fingers parting your glistening salt-bleached hair
and my arms unearthing the architecture of your
broad-shouldered back—making landmarks
of the isthmi and gently sloping dunes like
a pilgrim in some pristine promised land,
affirming all he knows to be his
my sweet sweet summer child, my beautiful boy,
i might've laughed when you told me you thirst for
the lingering burn of houston sun on your face
but i understand all too well now, cariño;
because you set alight a thousand little fires
within my heart of hearts, immolate me
when you let me hike your shirt and
lay my stone-cold hands on your body,
and it is as if i am beholding some blue-hot star
i abstain from you, and i sip you in moderation
because i fear i will come to live for what you ignite in me
the knowing that we're here and we're here and we're here.
for in you, i have found port and asylum, safe harbor
where i can drop anchor, moor my wayfaring ship
lover, my quietly brooding daydreamer,
you need not feign nonchalance around me:
your laughter is spring rain and i wish to bathe in it,
your stoic shoulder some perennial rock to rest my stubbled chin,
and i am but some wide-eyed child, stunned into wonderment
by the blessing that is you,
lover, to call you sweet would be to dishonor you:
the words you hand-pick for me are savory as dew-glazed herbs, and i relish the taste of them from your mouth;
together, might we burn sage? make a home together?
fill hearth and hearts?
i see my god in you, and in earnest, i pray:
that i have found continuity, something real and
alive and domestic as it is spontaneous, because
this is a love i will feed daily as if it were my child
my old soul knows yours by tens of names
pero ninguno tan hermoso como iván.
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