Paris

We’ve known each other for a few years now.
Some times I’m more fond of you than others.
But a few mornings ago might of been my favorite memory of you yet.

I remember your kind words, and forget the rest.
I’ve seen you cry and held your hands.
I know you’ve loved everyone except for me.

I am a friend to you, I hope that that’s still clear.
But we are just as lost as each other.
Maybe that’s just a sickness making us sicker.
But this town is so much less fun when you’re not around.

I wonder if you look back upon yourself as I look back upon the life I’ve seen.
Colors of the trees met with persistence and dedication.
Blue eyes and a brazen tongue, you are one of my favorite people.

When you return from the mountains you listen and my voice seems bolder.
My words are met with your remarks.
I like to speak to you.

Touch

Hands burning of lust
I wonder how far I can wander
Focused on your every move
Eyes flutter

We sit in my room as the rest falls away
Your eyes locked on mine
I allow myself to lean into you
It’s unexpected- the kiss
Until it’s routine again

I am kissing. Is this ok?
I am climbing. I am pushing farther.
It’s okay. I think to myself. It’s okay to be free. Be wild. Be however.
Extasy to my fingertips flowing into you-
I am so in love with this.

Thoughts evade my actions and we are sinking deeper into the realm of touch
Fingers boldly exploring.
Crossing the lines of female and male, using our bodies for what they are made to do.
Create with me?

The act of it should be nothing short of bliss
Yet it is.
More? I ask myself, as I will for more.
Until it is nothing again.

What is missing? What is still missing?
I demand silently.
He looks me in the eye.
Why the fuck are your eyes so open?

Your human form against my human form.
Cuddling so naked.
Surges of love overpower reality.
Can touch be so synonymous that this is how I suddenly feel?
Fuck.
He’s my roommate.