again a soft-focus filter between us

and i forgot where i was

beginning our descent into barbarism:

in ease of darkness

he peeled back the sheet and slid his hands

between shadows

and flickers of saints.

patiently.

the crescent curve of his back

And our breaths intertwine on the world's edge

Lashes to lashes. Sky's shades

his head angled backwards,

smooth neck reflecting the sky.

The light flickers,

we both flicker,

 twitch.

to steal under closed doors

then find him, open-eyed and loving.

I don't believe there's anything to say

except,  “I was alive like you. Back then.”

When he reads me, I'm reading him

I wish I'd written him