you are* the most beautiful lover
the most considerate
you hold my face in your hands my mouth
engaged with yours.
i fly so high with you, so close to the sun
you keep me sheltered from burning, protected.
I never know what piques your temperament,
what drives you softly, or
insistent.
What steers you, my love, my sweet.
I know that I do, that when asked
“who do I belong to?”
your voice, a low growl responds
“Me. To do with what I wish.”
I know you feel freedom with me
unfettered
judgeless
pure.
As for me,
I am unafraid (mostly) to say what I feel to you
To whisper “i love you so much
you know that, right?”
(nodding, your soft hair brushing my forehead)
“it’s okay for me to say, right?”
(I say this last bit with trepidation, for even though we have continued to make this work, this
thing we have this sweetness.
I say it with trepidation still because even after all this time, how much do I really know?
((how much more do I really need to know beyond the depth of your loyalty to me?))
more nodding, your soft eyes slowly blinking at me like a big cat. A lynx. Dear heart.)
*(almost always. Would be a lie if I said otherwise and you’ll be the first to agree.)
The Salty Widow 