🏷️ poetry

tender is my heart,
it is something that I have always known
and i am proud of that.

i miss being able to be tender,
the physical intimacy of tenderness,
the emotional honesty of vulnerability.

i daydream of the little things, the secret smiles
the silent whispers between closed lips and searching eyes
sighing when rolling over during naps, wiggiling into arms, pressing
bodies fitting like puzzle pieces

"sweetie would you like some water?"
sharing the glass, placing it on the nite stand and reaching up
for arms to hold, lips to kiss, pulling the down into the bed

stroking arms while watching movies
roomates coming home on a friday, or saturday night drunk
"Hey, what are you guys doing? You should have heard the band!
You should see who she hooked up with! What movie are you guys watching? I heard that was great, you know what else you two should see?!"
while we lay groggy on couches, or floors bathed
in the flickiering light of rented movies dancing across
television screens.

How i do miss being tender.
i often wonder when i will be able find this again.
I do miss being tender

vapour trails
criss crossing twilight
skies

i walk the moon
at ocean's edge
among debris dropped
from the coat pocket's of aliens

trying as i might to
pour my love, my heart, my affection
into her from such great heights.