Flighty 

Bird black eyes follow me dot to dot to dot. Unfurl heaven feathers in a real place, clipped to bodies with quick-paced hearts that live a short but lofty lifetime.

Unmuse

As you turn unhanded into something flat, you decrease, and cease to become the influence you once were on my sense of sexuality and expression.

Just a man, inadequate. Just a memory of love unreturned. My body doesn’t flux at your image. My hands are mine again.

Constant

I hope to sit with you one day,

in a content sort of way.

Sometimes thing are okay and sometimes they’re not,

But I’d love to have you as a constant, even though you can’t be constant,

Because one day, after you’ve become my constant, my comfort, you’ll die, or I will,

And the other will be left in a constant state of grief and loss, which will in some way ease but never go.