There is a place I want to go.
A place of warmth and solitude,
of peace, of joy.
The sun shines there.
My heart shines there.
He is there.
I don’t know who he is by societal standards.
I cannot tell you his name, describe how he looks nor explain his style.
I have no clue where he works nor how much money he makes.
Does he live in a flat?
And all irrelevant.
I know him though.
His smile is infectious.
It breaks easily across his lips, his cheeks and eyes are first to catch the joy.
Then my eyes.
I see his joy and I am stricken with it too.
Smiling, we find jovial easy footing.
He’s amazingly comforting.
My life mate.
In everyday mundane moments of life,
his touch supports, reassures, and bonds.
It’s a glue, strong and enduring,
yet he reapplies it daily
and often multiple times throughout the day.
His hands are like pillars –
holding up the walls of our sanctuary.
And when he places them upon me, I’m alight with warmth and love.
Tenderly, his hand at the small of my back in a public place,
guiding me, protecting, reassuring, loving.
I feel the warmth and strength now – just below my kidneys.
With just the pressure of a few fingers, he can turn me, guide me.
For anyone else, I am immoveable
I need convincing.
Reasons why I should do as you suggest.
Statistics would help and a powerpoint presentation might be in order.
But for him, even the flex of his pinky,
here at the small of my back,
and I adjust, following his direction.
I trust him.
He loves me.
His hand says so.
His lips tell me things too.
Pressed against mine, they are magic.
Love radiates from his lips through my entire being –
beyond my physical self –
my soul is alight.
And, of course, I kiss him back.
And from a kiss to the moment we shatter into infinity,
vulnerable in each others’ arms,
there is only him – and me – in the entire world.
Yes, his lips tell me things….They speak to me.
And I listen.
We talk of things, great and small.
Our lives, our dreams, our wants, our fantasies (some of which we decide to live out together later).
Philosophy, politics, religion, sexuality, parenting, painting, love, death, ecstasy, grief.
No topic taboo.
Beverages required to keep the vocal cords lubricated …
for this will continue until well into the wee hours of the morning if our schedules allow it.
Coffee for me, more cream and sugar than a respectable connoisseur would take; but he doesn’t care.
Who knows what he drinks and no matter, because when the talking is done, I will delight in sucking the taste of it off his tongue all the same. Scotch? Soda pop? Water?
Who knows and who cares?
All I taste is my love and respect for him.
And his tongue is not all I taste.
I’ll taste his love in every way that delights him.
Discovering each other will be a beautiful integral part of us.
Soulfully loving and physically exploring it –
to the depths of the most extreme ecstasy and the heights of the most connected love-making.
He is there.
I know because he is here.
Heavy on my heart.
So heavy that I can almost feel his warmth at my back
as I lie alone in my bed.
He is there, his breath at my neck, blowing across my ear lobe, warming me far beyond the spaces his breath touches.
I can feel him draw me close, strong arms supporting me, demanding my attention.
So why, when I turn to give it, is the bed behind me empty?
Why is this physical presence nothing more than a shadow?
An impression left in the mattress in that space just behind my body.
Where is he in this physical world?
Where is he and when will he get here?
You’re here already.
In my heart.
In my words.
When will the rest of you join us?