growth (saying it a second time)

I remember when all our text messages were sticky with sex. we wanted sex, we needed to smile and squirm in our seats at our jobs. distracted isn’t the word for swollen squeals, and muffled laughter. there were love letters that I would secretly copy and save inside a folder on my phone. the other night nearing a rise of sexual tension you discovered the folder. well actually, I opened it. the things we would say, the ways we would say it. you were always my person. I love hearing you say it now.

fear becomes a distant stranger when I pay closer attention to your efforts, your small morning voice. its a little hi followed by full good morning. I push my hand away from the fire starting attitude the sound of your stretching gives me. I couldn’t hide it if I tried. the days of conflict behind us, it seems I let the little things between us blow my sails full, toppling me over, drowning me in amazement and speechless minutes whereas I’m thrown overboard by the way you express your care, your desire, and that thing that existed between us years before we met.

the word that is only ours came across my phone. you said it as your intention. you seize the panic of my longing with gentle actions of pure love. this is how I eat sometimes. metabolizing your words, growing stronger in what we refuse to name but are committed to. trust is an ally, it is rich with promise, like your name when I say it to calm your outside voice. trust is rich with nutrients that allow me to plant the seed and let it grow on it’s own. you have your hands in the soil as well. we have an us and it’s been waiting in the car under the seat where we left it.

a small mind is full of insecurities. a selfish mind feeds them. we are imperfect. to witness the tug of war our lovemaking is one would not consider this true. you said the word and followed it with build with me. I said the word and said I will match your work.

you sent me your answers in prose and poetry. I know you did this only for me, to speak to me as I speak to you. you are telling me in different ways daily and I’m starting to know your heart is far too beautiful to touch. you let me touch it anyway, even after I proved that I can be unkind and careless. even after I walked inside with filthy shoes and a heart full of anger, you pull me back inside and say “you belong with me”. you may be the first to say it.

“ what is the always and will time stop when we reach it?”, she asked “the always begins with us yanking the horizon from its bed, pulling the shadows from the earth like weeds and holding the promise we made before anything was anything”, he replied. — — — Moses in the Wild (words to late October)

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