How is it so different and so the same? A few years gone by since last we touched, last I decided to trust you. The answer is obvious. Me. I’m different. Transformed, transfigured.
You much the same. Trading on mystery. Charm. I feel more heard in your arms than I have. But I always remembered that about you, sought it in others, came up disappointed. The only way to have a partner. A leo happy to fall in line and follow me. Ears always perked for the hair on my back to indicate danger.
The quickest way to earn my trust; pause, check in, kick my ass. Your hands, your accent, your hair. I’m a honey lazy river for your growl.
You think about me.
I know because you tell me.
Call it stroking my ego.
But you’re actually dancing with me in cloud space. Foreplay 3,000 miles away.
Each of us painting on different sides of the same vellum. Two artists sharing the same work, folding down the page to cover what has been drawn before,
At the bottom of my lines you should draw feet.
Who is to call it dangerous if it’s supportive and oh so healing. Grounding and revelatory. Intimacy rediscovered, reimagined.