Futile Devices

When it comes to expressing our love, 
words are futile devices.

Something immediate. Raw.
It resists explanation.
A warmth, unutterable,
coursing between us
in the simple fact of touch.

There was a time when closeness felt deliberate,
each movement considered,
each glance held briefly, 
then released.

Slowly, that distance gave way,
until there was no longer a boundary to keep,
only the quiet convergence of two interiors,
where I learn the cadence of your heartbeat
and you come to know
the meaning behind each breath I let go.

You teach me to surrender. 
I find it again,
that childhood smile,
wide, unguarded,
untouched by knowing.

Only this time,
the baby teeth have given way,
and it has settled into bone,
full where it once was gapped,
yet no less open.

That youthful innocence– 
it lives in the fullness of your laugh,

in the way it arrives unconfined,

tumbling into the room.

You move through life like a Beatles song,

unforced, a little sentimental,

and impossible to forget.

We pirouette around each other,

skin warm, almost damp with evening,

a loose strand of hair 
caught against your face,

and something in this
 careless precision…
Release.

And always, 
I return 
to the simplest truth I know:

your arms around me,

steady, unhesitating,

drawing me in 
almost routinely.

And the soft, certain weight

of your lips 
against the crown of my head;

a tenderness so complete

it needs no name.

Words are futile devices –
I love you. 

Cover Photo: Luca Guadagnino, 2017. Call Me By Your Name

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