Rain soaks our clothes, leaves us breathless and cleansed.
The lights bounce and shimmer; a thousand lights on us.
Coppery and acidic, but it doesn’t overpower the taste of you.
Drunken girls laugh into the night like gulls in the morning.

Ignore the looks; kiss me, put your lips on mine.
Smear my pink lipstick, make your pretty red stick.
Fist my sweater and pull my heart out; keep it with yours.
Tug the strands of my hair, pull me closer; don’t let the divider in.

It’s cold in the rain, so mingle our breaths
and create hot, steamy fog to keep us warm.
The lights are on us, but **** it; let’s give ’em a show.
They want the rain to drown us; let’s slow dance.

Hold my waist, reel me in like a love song.
Sip my lips like cheap beer, savour me like wine.
Bruise me like a peach; kiss it better.
Feel the wind sting our cheeks; try to blow out our flame.

Whispering in my ear, he’s looking, isn’t he?
Kissing the frown from your lips, yes, he is. Who cares?
Let the hateful ******* sneer and scorn.
I’ll still love my lover in this storm.

For a moment we’re in perfect harmony.
There is no fear. No worry.
Finding purpose in each other.
Whether the shadows creep through the night.
Or the sun lives out loud during the day.
There is but a moment
Followed by an embrace, then a click.


Unlocking parts of you that I only anticipate.
Though circumstances may vary.
This moment I relive, even away from you.
The way that you sigh, the way that you
Twist and the way that you turn.
No matter where I’ve been.
You tumble then you click for all to hear.


A sigh released into forever.
Echoing down its hallway.
No matter how tight you squeeze.
I am here.
No matter how stubborn you may become.
I am here.
Until the day I no longer exist.


No matter how many hands I may pass through.
I can never replace the way that you hold me.

I can be a wretched fake, in private, intimate performance.

I’m an actress capable of imitating spontaneous pleasure -
by tricks of hesitation, convulsive vocal play and postures.

A mimicry undetectable to an immediate spectator.

"Aww, thank you", I’ll sigh, as if leaving a good party.

“I’ve got a lot of homework to do,” I’ll add, a minute later.

To clear the stage.

an accidental intimacy is committed
between the right-now me
and the me-a-few-minutes-ago
as i slip onto my body,
(made cold by the air of the room,)
the warmest shirt i have ever felt,
soft and hot with the heat of
my own body
that i had already forgotten.

two me's converge, here.
i wrap my arms around myself.

i forgive my old self for all he has done to me
yesterday
because look what he would do for me
today,
he would keep himself warm
so that one day he would be cold
so that one day i could pick this hot shirt up
and wear it.

we waltz, we dance,
until the heat calms under the fan,
and then we are just one man
and i catch myself missing him.

Intimacy is not physicality.
Intimacy takes heartfuls of risky honesty.
Its essence is vulnerability -
an ability to offer the key to deep dignity
and entrust it by degree or in its entirety.

And listen carefully:
It's not limited to matrimony.
It's a delicacy available to anybody
and without it friendship is hollow
and fully half empty.

Falling sound asleep
Your fingers tickle me
I look at you with glassy eyes
You look at me with fire

Soft murmurs carry me
Up into the clouds
And so myself starts to wonder—
Could this really be love?