And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door/She cried to me, “Hey, why not ask for more?”
Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen
Not nothing done. All potential.
Toast, the other white meat.
Ask me anything.
I volunteer to hide your clothes.
Sometimes what you can’t see is more arousing than what you can. Would this picture make me feel less if I could see his face buried between her thighs? How much of my longing relies on mystery?
I find the opposite to be true. The more of yourself that you reveal, the more infatuated I become. The deeper I dig, the messier things get, the more I want to roll around in everything you are. I think it’s time to embrace the tangible.
I want to hold you in my arms among the pulsing crush of people. As more colors are splashed on our bodies - the crowd so thick and deep, so happy and joyous - they become an outward echo of my soul.
This is not the me, me, me of my every waking hour – it is how I disappear into you and how we evaporate into the world.
Yes I want to be transparent with you; yes I want to be gloriously invisible.