I hope you know I just wanted to hold you in my arms and sleep.
Maybe drift into your world as we slip into unconscious bliss
A grasp here, a touch there;
Lovely kisses everywhere
Your dark, smooth skin under this hazy glow
Vibrant waves of color as our spirits flow
You're tall and brooding but your eyes don't care
I'm love, I'm air, I'm barely even there
You search and finally find what you've been looking for
Is it too late? Your timing was poor
I can't say that we play the wait game well
Patience tested, every moment in your absence is comparable to hell
All I ask is for your rising chest that I claimed as my pillow
Dear, my beautiful boy, I'll jump without ever looking below

                                                          ­            *s.q.

The dark curves of his towering structure-----home.
Arms reach in the shadows to grasp me in a hold of immeasurable calm;
His head, nestling in the crevice of my neck, gently stroaking me with his nose;
Kisses, baby kisses, sprinkled along the silhouette of my jaw;
Legs wrapped around one another, tighter as to feel the warmth of his skin;
Hands finding each other's touch, the familiar sensation.
Snake like arm grip, tightening, and tightening still----never close enough,
Perfection Reached.

                                                       ­           *s.q.

Sometimes I feel this one vessel can't contain all these experiences, all these emotions.
This one trip isn't enough
This one guy isn't enough
This one life isn't enough

What then?
A higher peace?
A believing remedy?
Blind blind apathy.

I try. I tried. I became. I become.
I'm a fool. A servant. I'm a slave to these emotions.
They turn on me like the light from the atoms in the night sky.

What are these?
These experiences.
What is their mount?
What is their worth.

I try to desert the hurt then thwart the pain..but of course it enters through the memorized corners of my gaping heart.
It swallows my pleasure, happiness, reason to be until there's just a silence.  Desparate acceptance.
Yes. Yes. I'm a willing slave of this pain.
What else can you call a non-doer.

Cecelia was right.
Indecision is decision.

                                                      ­            *s.q.

What is life but the silence in between the silence.

                                                                  *s.q.