peace. simplicity. an offering pure of heart.
no need for terror here, or staving off complexity--
with you there is quiet happiness blooming
in vineyards overgrown with thought and lust.
the concepts of the body turn lush where once
i might have dwelled on shape and history (misery),
where beauty was leached from shallow grounds.

you are the only one who offers something greater
than i can give myself-- more peace than solitude,
more progress than painful, yanking growth.
with you i can be, perhaps, all the things i value:
all the things i cannot accomplish singly,
without a partner, without a friend.

i try not to write your script for you, but ultimately
it is your own words that seal the pact:
good morning, good evening, good night,
sweet dreams if dreams there be. and for my part,
i dream of you! of what it could be like
to experience mutuality again, to try love
as an adult and find it lovely. it is your spirit
that brings me closer to myself, and your smile
that helps me make my own home here.

i can't be anything more or less,
or anything else-- just calm, and tired,
and open to love. waiting to find you on streetcorners,
to pass you in all the movements of my life,
to see you early and late
in the corners of my eyes.