beauty, love, men, poetry, women



And I’ve let go of

Things but not people

Experiences, good and bad,

Their scars shine silver at

Civil twilight

But you run your fingers

Over my peculiar fur

And I breathe you in

Mine, I say from the back of

My throat,

You’re mine

And you curl into me

A little tighter

Safe here,

Warm and comforted,

If nothing else

Redeemable exists

Then I can lay down

Rest my head

And have intimacies

As palpable as

Summer lightning

Not be broken by their


Sometimes a man

Would rather fuck than


But here,

Safe and strong

I’m going to have



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