Deep pool

You run forward.

A babbling brook, a swiftly running stream, water crashing over the falls.

I am not dreaming of standing in the midst of you, watching you froth and eddy. I wish to see you rising, water and steam flowing down your thighs, as you walk toward me in the heat of the day.

Mouth closed.  Hands open, heart overflowing.

Khelônê, I wish you to be. Not because you stirred me to anger and I dropped a house of distaste over you.

Let me dive into you, float in silence.

Fix

I come to you for silence, to wrap my fingers in your hair, to watch dusk spread slowly across the sky.

That is all I want from you.

You give me talk, action, movement.  You turn me from the spectator to the participant, you make me your unwilling physician.

You want me to heal you, to fill the gaps, fill the cracks with love mortar. Strengthen you.

I cannot.

Here I am, as me. I do not possess the tools to cure what ails you, bandage your  festering wounds caused by long-ago injuries, heal your damaged psyche.

I do not exist to give you the love you need. All I can give you is what I have.

I am here to watch the day slip away into night. With you, my lips pressed to your collarbone, hearing your heart ticking like a cooling engine.

That is all I want.

That is all.

Yearn

My lips will not caress or embrace the sounds.

I leave it to my eyes to tell you.

That I want to run my fingers across your mouth.

Slip my hands down the front of your narrow jeans.

Hold the heart of you.

And feel it beat, beat, beat…