Ginger Boy

7–11–15


There is a place we built between the walls of my room, a space of infinite possibilities where you and I become a single unit.
And in that space all of creation is captured in the tender kiss you offer and the touch of my hand on your face.

While the rhythm of the ceiling fan clicks like a clock we refuse to acknowledge, like a metronome urging us on through time and space.
Patiently we continue towards a state of being that is both new and old, an ancient fire that burns but once and never dies.

Your skin on mine, bare chests touching, like boys playing under an endless summer sun, like sleeves of books carefully arranged.
So when we lay on my bed we are cradled by the soft linen, a cloud for us to ascend into heaven.
There you enter my being, a soft velvet case to shelter you so long as you need; two pieces built like a puzzle we long to solve.

There we are whole for the first time since we climbed from the safety of the womb, since our souls split to descend to earth only to search each other out.
Your tears fall as I ask what the matter is, and although I knew the answer you say nothing.

We know that this love will destroy our separate worlds, and when you leave the questions will remain; how do we make it work? How can we continue on this path without the other?
Those are things to be answered later, for now I’m in your arms wishing to never leave, trading a lifetime of joy for a moment longer with you.

You leave, a gentle whisper that soon we will again be one, a promise we know may not be real, an oath our hearts will hold until our final breath.

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