feels like the most relieving thing that could happen to me,
not the act of it,
but the thought of leaving and being remembered for a while
as a bunch of stories and words of wisdom and weird connections,
and maybe the color i wore the most will remind a few about me,
or maybe the clothes i left behind will find another holder,
but then at some point,
i wil be forgotten, and isn't that peaceful.
to have lived, and seen, and talked, learnt for so many years, and your existence will have mattered for some and been invisible for others, until eventually
you die,
and the world goes on without you,
and you will have been a small part of it.

I'd rather you tell me no,
not right now,
not tonight,
then yes,
as in pity,
as in obligation,
as in "I don't want to, but I'll make an effort just to please you".
I am not as fragile
as you think,
I don't want to be an effort,
I want to be a conscious
choice.

fog, all around, murk and then
beautiful trees, fruit awaiting to be bit into,
everyday the same ***** waters but delicious offerings.

my body healthy but hidden away under clothes too big and chains and accessories and other pretty things,
my heart open but shying away from prying hands who want to help and pulling back when love gets tougher,
my mind free but bound to a chair and a desk and no will to make anything come alive for long,
my hands ready but only when it comes to fleeing their own work.

happiness on some fruity corners and then the rest of the room has to be ignored, it has to
or else how am i going to move on.

almost fell asleep, a few moments ago,
thinking about asking if i could kiss them,
an everlasting question of desire and want and curiosity,
so could i please
know what it is like to kiss you,
i ask politely,
to the friends i hold close like lovers.

almost started dreaming, a little bit after that,
imagined you not even asking, but getting
close
and closer,
and taking the kiss from me,
and me giving it to you willingly,
because with you it's something else,
i want you to want me.
we wouldn't even have to be polite about it,
you, the lover
i hold close like a friend.

we are in a car
she's driving and you sit in the front
we were two on this road, now we're three
she offered to drive us home and it was sweet
we said yes, laughing, happy to skip the bus part
we are in her car,
it's dark outside but the city's alight
and i feel my body shimmering too, happy,
relaxed
music and whispers and laughters a bit too loud for the night,
maybe i didn't quite know how it felt to be loved before you.

put your body next to mine, if you dare
and let my hands play with your skin,
they'll be soft i promise,
like two little curious things
playing notes on your stomach,
touching your fingers shyly in reverence and
nesting in your hair when they get tired.
they love you,
let them rest right there
in your arms.

i saved a picture of you in my phone a while back
saw it and got angry
how can you be so pretty? i wondered
thought it was jealousy, for your beauty and your strong shoulders, and the shimmers over your eyes,
now i realize i was probably just gone all along.
a match of attraction and
bitterness, admiration,
and love,
and being too ****** queer about it all.