Before the Morning Comes

My back is all I will show her, for now at least. That’s when I feel most comfortable, most secure.

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State of the Boat. #8

Sometimes my balls feel like tits. Bloodlines. New Buffalo. The fine wrinkles, we have all of them. I swear this time I'll never forget. I swear this time I absolutely refuse to. So I'll write it down in my calendar, an electronic reminder for Google to not forget until it's deleted. Or some such other … Continue reading State of the Boat. #8

Picnic In the Sun

The sideways glance, furtive and lithe Pillowed blue rolling soft and continuous  Her metronome breath billows warm  Secretive whispers, lips brushing conspiratoriously  We wear each other's arms around each other's necks  Binding us to one, forging our course Her toes on mine, as mine are on hers  Hearts racing faster as we pull tighter Together, … Continue reading Picnic In the Sun