It is thought, not act—that is our undoing.

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Kindness is the night carrying you in ether I lie awake within undone, undressed
 by thought alone.

Wonder where you rest
— when wanting hums songs upon the skin, tattooed words unsaid mirrored head to head.

Hands wander, feeding quiet aches— beneath, within, where breath grows thin.

Carried you are like heat against the thigh— uninvited, relentless, unconfessed.
 bleeding over and into peace stirred to rupture.

practiced calm, possessed by silence, while a body learns to lie.

others see the face, not how pulse obeys thoughts not yours but of you— closeness becoming burn.

-

Twas once said: 'Truth need not be safe— your reality was reward.' 
So here I am, the boy— restraint frays and frays nights bleed to days.

Bright and deep no return down glowed amber and gold, let touch be what we learn: when the spark erupts there is no choice, only the waking night.

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