Saturday.
Somehow, like water moving a stone, you’re changing the things I thought I knew about being cared for.
The very first time I fell in love, I did so instantly. I threw it away. Gave it away. Since then I have learned to guard it, let it out in little increments, let my love into my work, let it leak into my every day interactions. I have collared and tamed myself into submissive love. Passive love. Have a good day, love. And yet here you are. Passionate and passive. Have a good day, *and* I can’t wait to see you again. Your affection is young. You have loved so few, and those you have loved, you have adored deeply. I am a firecracker. I burn brightly and I burn out. And I wonder how your life could coincide with mine so seamlessly. But you touch me seamlessly. Carefully and roughly, like I am fragile with no fear of breaking. Your hands fit my body. And the boulder turns to a pebble. The pebble tumbles down stream. You are changing things I thought were certain. And I am tumbling too.











