There is nothing quite like an Untitled document. It holds the endless promise of everything I could ever hope to say.
Meditation turns the volume up on my feelings. I cannot mute them now. Inevitably tears pour out. All that I keep locked away and secret reappears. I am burning with some hidden desire tonight.
What I want to say but cannot bring myself to is that you fascinate me. You are a boy-me. You are a mirror, man, and I look in you/at you and see me looking back. Something invisible is taking shape but I can taste it, light and frothy. I want to taste you. I want to take you in my mouth, consume you. I am curious to feel how another body responds, a thoughtful body when it boils down to base desires. I want to surprise you in ten million small ways, to memorize another face.
I am wondering when I will know. Perhaps there is a purpose in the elegant timing of it all. Eventually I will unravel myself from the shroud of lonely-grief and heartache tugging at me like a toddler on her mother’s leg – just long enough to peek out and see the bluest ever sky. No announcement will run in black and white. There is no flawless theatrical entrance or exit. All I have is now, the peace of very the sacred moment God himself has so thoughtfully lent.