Gary
By Casey Navarro
Your hands were meant to touch my body.
You write paragraphs to me with your lips and breath.
A story I can’t put down.
Up.
Up.
I hover over our bodies intertwined. A choreographed dance my heart made up and yours picked up too quickly.
I have opened a door to a room so peaceful it’s hard to trust it.
It’s hard to trust you.
That’s not true, it’s easy.
So easy.
Too easy.
I give myself away with my eyes and the womanhood between my thighs.
She is warm and welcoming.
She accepts you as you are.
We are still getting to know each other. Her and I, you’re fine.
You read me the stars and tell me what I want to hear.
It works, I’m open again. But I smell different now.
Attics smell different.
Not from storing memories though.
I don’t look back.
But now, I must.
To make room for you.
Pain finds me in my day to day but I don’t slow.
I’ve never stopped long enough to hear her out.
Fool me once, fool me twice. I like being fooled.
I sip. No, I chug.
Each precious drop of you.
I keep you safe behind glass.
No one else can touch you yet.
They can only look.
Witness.
For now, you are mine. All mine.
I trust that.
But I don’t own you because then I’d have to care.
Your hands were meant to touch my body.
I know that. I knew that.
I have never been touched so softly.
Don’t stop, Gary.
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