Wednesday, Sept. 11, 2019 @ 11:42 am
In This Light
We lay in bed in the thin morning light. I climb over on top of him. He puts his book onto the bedside table. I run my hand down the side of his face, trace the line of his collarbones from his right shoulder to his left. Press my hands onto his bare chest.
“Russell. I want to tell you why I like you.”
I watch his face shift. Everything softens, and I watch an expression of vulnerability and warmth form in his eyes and at his mouth. It’s a hunger, too, I realize. A hunger to hear what I have to say, to have my words fill up his empty spaces.
As I list the reasons, I watch him blossom. I can see how my love is filling him up, how it redoubles and comes out from him in the form of an extended hand. A kiss. A small noise for which I do not have a word to describe.
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