The ones that you love lead you nowhere

[al_shairan]

Open up your heart to me; I would be your slave.

*

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.

Thursday, mid-afternoon, the Carnival

"How many of our Brothers have you destroyed, how many have you twisted away from Love

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[tereixa_zann]

The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account, love itself balks account, and it is a thing renewed and felt each moment. I take his hands as they reach mine, fingers meshing smoothly once in quick embrace, and let him go, reach to take his face in my hands. Not to kiss him now but to see him, sweet symphony of muscle and skin pliant with life, O I say these are not the parts and poems of the body only, but of the soul
and cloth and covering undone. I can feel my blood beating harder within me and see his rising as I undress him, us, and touch him, pulls his hands to me, and the curious sympathy one feels when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body; the circling rivers the breath, and breathing it in and out and standing warm against him and draw him back the step for the distance through it to turn and slow recline and "I love you" and

voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud
such a small space and more than enough, who I am and the bodies we wear it cannot be perfect but there is joy, in the awkwardness and the learning of it, and all of it an excuse to laugh, give voice to joy in in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh'd day
this time, moment, lifting gold and timeless, come with me, pleasing, as one entwined...

O I say now these are the soul!

[al_shairan]

She undresses this body and her own tenderly and draws me down beside her, and she shows me she loves me with her hands and her words. It is easy to sing this song, dance these steps, despite the awkwardness of these bodies. The armies of those I love engirth me - yes, yes. Against her hair, her mouth, I sing of bodies electric, of things fair, freckled, adazzle, dim. The love of the Body of man or woman balks account. There need be no explanation but this, this perfectly imperfect meeting of flesh and soul.

Much of the day has passed.

“I do not sleep,” I say, touching her hair with my hand, her brow with my lips. “But if you wish to, I will stay.”

[tereixa_zann]

The light is different, now. It's as warm as it gets in winter, pouring through the cold air and diving through the weave of the curtain like honey that somehow manages to taste of mint. Sunset light, going down into the dark and the stars are always wheeling but soon we can see them, and everything we built into them, the lights in the heavens.

I can tell I'm being wrapped up in things, and that's okay. "I do not sleep,” I say, touching her hair with my hand, her brow with my lips. “But if you wish to, I will stay."

"I would like that," I say, and I feel sleepy in the good way, limbs and tendons worked and now slackening, the warmth of him next to me. "I'm glad I met you," I say, "and you sang to me, and we danced." Drape one arm over him and my fingers trace along his back for a moment before I rest. God, so beautiful. All of us. "If I drop off," I say, not quite yawning, "You promise you'll wake me if you need anything?"

[al_shairan]

I cover her with a blanket, and I lie back down next to her. Her fingers run over my back, and it is sweet.

"If I drop off. You promise you'll wake me if you need anything?"

"I have what I need," I say, and I touch my lips to her forehead. "But yes, I promise. Sleep now," I say, and after a while she does, and the sun goes down and the moon rises, and I stay beside her, her body warm against this body, and it is not enough, but it is something, and it is beautiful.