I want to write love on his arm 🙋

I imagine you.

I and you.

On the bed next to the bedside table with your geeky eyeglasses on it.

Sometimes we wonder why the birds don’t chirp in the morning 

and you tell me to sing you a song instead.

When I think you don’t want to hear me sing, you let me.

as if left with so much choice, you choose me.

We play rock, scissors, paper and you lose

You don’t want to do “dare” so

you jump off the bed and sprain your leg.

Moments like you pretending all injured–as a bait

And I, a KOI wiggling my body to gulp you in my mouth-

Til the sun slits the windows open to say hi.

We stay on the floor in silence then I hear your voice breaks

tone down and gentle—the kind I want when I’m depressed.

Your fingertips run to my arms, circling and twitching every little skin it catches like thongs on a busy Sunday grocery. 

I squeak like a little yellow duck pressed on my thighs when we take a bath.

Do you like that feeling?

Your eyes they teach me how to open pores even without touching and

your hands treat my moody wounds and impossible scars like an experienced doctor

suddenly, I become devious as I doubt whether I can stay unkempt or festoon around your clandestine look of desire.

Right now, all I know is to draw love on your arm. 


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