He loves his boy drunk, and in the dark. The scent of fresh spirits clinging to his tongue as he whispers his insecurities into the shadowed night. His hands wrapped around the fragile boys arms, even though they shouldn't,
because this boy, his boy, is too bright, too precious to loosen the grip he has. While he is made up of stolen cigarette smoke and bruised knuckled smiles, the love he has conjured up is beyond magic.
He lusts his boy sober and dawn breaks through the curtained room.
Coffee engulfs the narrowed hallways and the creaking wooden board is the only sound heard besides soft snores. He looks away from the paled soul, loosens his touch and each time he gets up and leaves, he breaks both their hearts. don't you know you can love him with the lights on too?
Little bird sitting in the tree Singing a little love song to me I'm smiling Listening to him sing me beautiful song As I smile and my heart beats along,
And I whisper go on now little Bird and fly so high And spread your wings And fly high up into the deep blue sky And with a smile on my face go on And reach your dreams in this Beautiful little place so little Bird fly so high fly up into The beauitful blue sky.
A fickle yet adored fantasy universally proclaimed lovingly by the same name stands with much difference for each for each has a unique lover whose uniqueness cannot be challenged nor compared nor estimated
Though are we always to meet our fantasied beloved? At the right moment? Ideally?
Love is strange an entity yearned for for ages yet terrifying to own when the time for it comes for we are afraid of our beloved in our fantasies to be marred by the realism we allow ourselves to indulge
Picking petals from a flower ‘To love?’ ‘To not love?’ Promises nothing short of eternity of torment So drop that flower And take a deep breath Look to the offerer of love in the eyes And say ‘I do,’ Hope that they will love you like no one has ever done so