longing

we haven’t crossed the line—

not completely.

but we’ve stood so close to it

the air has worn thin.

it does not know it's own shape

*

everytime something makes us laugh,

shocks, scares

we reach for each other without thinking.

a hand to an arm.

fingers gripping a shoulder.

our joy needs a body to land on—

and we choose each other.

every time.

*

you almost grabbed my neck 2 days ago

*

you took my spot on the bed

teased me, made me make you move

your hand lifted like a reflex,

hovering on my collarbone

fingers inches from my throat.

Not violent.

Not gentle.

just Charged.

*

you didn’t do it.

you stopped yourself.

but I felt the almost of it spark under my skin.

i've thought about it more than I should.

*

the night after you asked to watch Call Me By Your Name and the No burst from my chest.

to be next to you and not able to touch you

to watch the tension on the screen and feel it weigh on me

i couldn't bare it.

*

you’ve let me lay on you too—

my head on your shoulder

casual enough to deny,

intimate enough to haunt me.

I remember how solid you felt beneath me,

how your breathing shifted

when I moved just a little closer.

i fell asleep on you.

stayed much longer than necessary

and still you didn't move

*

we’ve never gone further—

but I know the warmth of your skin

And now every inch of space between us

feels deliberate.

*

your zip up is still in my room,

draped over the chair

waiting for you to come back for it.

it smells like you—

not artificial, not sweet

incense, herbs, deodorant

and something i can't quite place

sometimes I lift it slowly,

press it to my face,

and close my eyes.

*

something i can never admit out loud,

not outside of these words i write for you now

my quiet admission of guilt.

will you sentence me to hell?

*

i imagine it’s your weight behind me instead

your voice whispering in my ear

saying my name

*

call me by yours and i'll call you by mine.

*

we are in the cemetery and you lean your head back and close your eyes

your throat stretches bare, taunting me

*

i want to drag my mouth along that stretch of skin,

to find the place that makes your breath falter.

lips, teeth, tongue.

to press in and linger

until your hand tightens instinctively,

until your head tilts again without meaning to and i see your lips part

*

not hesitant. not innocent or accidental.

not something to laugh off.

*

you know you’re beautiful. everyone does.

the way you hold eye contact just a second too long when you catch me looking, by the quiet confidence in the curve of your mouth

you know exactly what your eyes do—how they soften and darken at the same time, how they linger like your fingertips

*

it wouldn’t take much.

just one shift,

one breath held too long—

*

and the longing i have carried so carefully

tiptoed and stepped around

would finally have somewhere to land.