On writing … love … again

In my head, I know all of these things should not … could not … be said …

The fragments of memories

… you in the morning, arm across yourself, wrapped in the light of the morning sun, holding that magnificence up as you departed the room without trying to wake me – as if I could not be in tuned to your sleep & wake when you wake – to ensure there is nothing you need.  I drift back to sleep to the sight of your delightful derriere departs the room.  To awaken from divine dreams of you, to you slipping back beside me and those tiny arms across me, head tucking against me.

Another memory

…a hug, like all of the love in the world wrapping around me and empowering me to be so much more than just a silly man.  Your cheek against my chest is all of the world that I need to know.

Yet again, another memory

…you across the room, trying to work and concentrate.  My game open & sound pouring off it.  Your commentary cracking me up.  A vivid sense of home and belonging.

Now just longing…

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