“You never know when you're gonna need to be in a drawer.” – Katie Boyd
The smell of her perfume and the drawer’s wood comforts me like reading “Harriet the Spy” did once upon a time.
I feel her body pressed up against mine and for the first time in decades I’m not feeling self-conscious about my own body or what to do with my hands.
Resisting temptation is key when your skeleton won’t fit in the lock and everyone refuses to carry your excess weight.
There was something I needed to unload so I came in here, but I soon forgot what it was and before you know it I was again heading to the library to peek at the librarian through the reference books.
I was a lonely kid there’s no getting around that, but once I began to write I found the person I wanted to be and the human I always was come Hell and low tide.
You broke through all of my defense mechanisms like a Chinaman running with the bulls in Pamplona or through my head when I’ve taken LSD and cannot escape from my worst fears.
Her butt feels so natural against my stomach as she lets out a little sigh and I begin to understand this is as close as I’ll ever get to Heaven.
It doesn’t have to be about sex. In fact intimacy has actual penetration beat hands down unless you’re only concern is the continuation of the species.
I was lost and then I was found in your virtual accent over that thing they call the internet. Maybe you have this sort of connection with others, but I choose to not believe that because I prefer my muses to be one in a million and one of a kind.
Thinking about you at work doing whatever it is you do and me here in the dark praying the keys stay put as I press down on them with all the grace of a blind gazelle.
Sometimes we make it up as we go along while other times it’s all laid out before us like a bountiful feast from God Almighty herself.
Do you remember when we were in the Garden of Eden and how you kept telling me to ignore the serpent and how I just couldn’t leave well enough alone?
I love you.