a preface.
woahHhhhHHh. holy shit, babe. you really done did it, hit that big two-'n-eight together! ring the gongs, real shit. 'cuz this where i get to start callin' you 'old' right back when you hit me with the walker jokes? remember i was a year older than you are right this second when we first got to talkin'–– ain't that somethin'? but then again, nothin' quite made me melt like the way you casually called yourself my ol' lady back in our communicating strictly through spotify playlist captions era (the first of a couple, 'cuz y'know, we stay on that consistent shit). but down to real talk, i'm proud of you. life ain't easy, 'n nobody asks to be made human (even if they are at least half actual seraph or goddess or whatever ethereal being that holds half of the answer to the question of 'what is this ray of light as a speaking, breathing, warm body beside me, 'n how'd i get lucky enough to chance crossing paths with her?). humanity finds its vessel, inhabits it, makes a home. it ain't easy gettin' through this life shit. you makin' it this far shows the obvious: you're a fighter, & a damn good one at that. never let any motherfucker on this earth take you alive (i mean, unless it's me, hahah... i don't mean like THAT, relax, we play real sweet at the end when the blade's back slid up in its sheath). but you know how i feel about you on this front, at least to a minimal degree, i'm just thankful we both've made it long enough to collide in this crooked ass universe. you really never know. i been scared for you a lot more often than i let on, i been in my own trenches like you told me about some of yours. this journey's a tangle of circumstances, man, 'n most of 'em, we don't ask for even halfway. you been through worlds more than a lotta people, 'n i get protective the way i do not even 'cuz i'm possessive (which, yeah, i know i can be, 'n i'm sorry for where that overwhelms), but just 'cuz i can't stand seein' how readily folks objectify the most multifaceted person i've ever come across. playful's playful, 'n you deserve to be able to play 'cuz the wit you got about you goes so crazy & it's so hot but damn. you ain't ever had it easy, 'n even though you got a real good front up to disguise the leftover marks from past times where folks've done you far dirtier than you deserve, i just at heart wish people wasn't so image-based. even (& especially) as a visual artist, you know there's so many intricacies underneath a picture, no matter how jaw-droppingly pretty it is. there's a reason for every shade, every means of how it's been applied to the canvas. you take the intrinsic blankness most bring out tryna talk game 'n color it with colors i never seen before in my life. it's remarkable. you're a beauty, there's never been any question on that front, but hell, you deserve to be seen 'n treated as a human being. you got insights that spur my mind into action that gets me reading like i'm tryna hit college, like. your perspectives, your input, the internal life is beyond words, that's why i just resort to the butterfly nebula, 'cuz in my brain, that's the closest thing to what it could look like to me. your worth is so much more than what most make it to be. i'll sing my odes (trust, as they're en route as we speak) for days on end, but man. your personhood has changed my own for the better, both through the shining moments & the times it's felt like we gotten dragged real slow behind a moving subaru against steaming asphalt. it's been a lot, but hell, if it means having met you, if it means being yours without embarrassment, it's beyond worth the while.
neither of us joining the 27 club is so fuckin' lit, 'cuz, like. now we can get to the chapters that come after that. wink. you been knew, we both been knew, we been preppin' on pengu. i mean, of course, depending on how you want those chapters to go. old memories don't fade easy, 'n i'm happy to let you keep your hands set on the steering wheel as long as you might need before we make any big steps. every shuffle in the sand means more than you know to me. it's an honor that you've allowed me into your life, as much as a mess as you've seen me to be as many times as you have (last night even served as another, which wasn't how i woulda had it, but i'm afraid your old dog scares mad easy), & that you've even alluded to wanting me to stick around. as long as you'll have me, daniels, on every beat of this beat-up heart, everything in me, to me, within me, aurically around me, is all yours. safety's a huge word, but in the soft little divots of your palmlines, i can say easy that it'd be difficult for me to want my essence set any place elsewhere. thank you for being you. thank you for letting me into your life. thank you for seeing me through the very intentional haze 'n smoke 'n opaque ass clouding i've always stuck to to stay safe. it shows me how much of a difference a lil' tlc can make. chaos been rampant, but in your arms, against your chest, feelin' my fingers thread through yours, all the like, life feels less like a vague idea or a confined cell, but an actuality. the heart ain't just a muscle that moves, it's so much more than that these. days, & i ain't gotta keep it going manually no more when i'm around you. it's been a long, long time. this weary-eyed rocketman's happy to call his honeycomb a home if she can rock with it.
to her hair.
raven runs in rivulets the nile'd never prod a joke next to by denying, endless ebon waves that keep far hearts tied in concurrent ebbs & crying out her name in prayer, in devotion, in envy: sometimes they all mean the same thing. this may not have been what she ever asked for, for the sun to spin silk, fine & fresh & fairer against the pale skin of the now shoulderblade but once-wing upon each strand further & further with every degree the sun rises, but we all cope with the presence of undeniable divinity in different ways. i have a special relationship to it when it's spilled across my bedsheets, from the pillowcase we can call mine as long as we'd like but it makes less sense each time we ever do to tease its gentle curl's beginning but an inch (if that; mercy's not her go-to game, but hell: that's not even half the magic) from the end of my fingertip as it stings for contact, for connection, for the cradle of something soft & sweet. she hovers above me when we make love, every swipe of its silk's just like another butterfly kiss. i think i'm the luckiest man alive, then i live to see another day with those locks let loose beside me. the shimmer of one sacred something against another. it feels a sin to long for more, to trace the sacred line left–– like i'm some glutton for pleasure & passion & love, but dionysus has a way of encouraging a man to chase revelry in all rights. eventually, a boy becomes a man, strange as it is to him 'n everyone he's met. i want to let it linger. i want to take a breath of your sweet shampoo the morning after i've lathered it into your scalp. i want to hold onto it forever, every note. the idea of temporary brilliance doesn't take the same to me, not since i met you. it don't mean a thing like i let it once upon an 'i was bored' excuse of a time. i wanna brush your hair while you hug onto a pillow 'n watch a movie with me. i wanna take care of you in any capacity i can, to treat you as a queen. to tuck my chin up on your chin 'n breathe in the memory of how a half-hour shower felt like exploring what love was for the first time all over again. kiss your neck along the side. let it heal my lungs. every stray strand against the sunset is cause for a series of sonnets, a halo you ain't even get to see. earth angel, you make it feel like every day's another damn season, 'n that's for the better.
to her eyes.
caught between the devil & the deepest, most intricate array of blue the seas've known is how we've found ourselves pretty often, ain't it? no coincidence. in an odd way, i gotta admit i kinda dig it–– hence, i keep comin' back around to knock at your door. obviously, your man plays the former, then the happiest martyr imaginable to the will of the prettiest tides a sailor could ever see. the lyrics're written the way they are for a reason, 'n i choose to believe they were written for us: fate seems to give my heart a twist, 'n i come runnin' back for more. i'll keep at it, too. you got every shade in one up in those beauties somehow. i know you been busier than even harvard's most illegal blondes (me if i went to harvard, prob'ly) with that palmistry study, but hey. i don't even think it'd take too much tryin' for you to read my entire future in your eyes. maybe you could find a good portion of your own in mine if you gave it a shot, eh? mystics got facets just like all us ordinary folk, if not more. wouldn't be too shocked to figure you had somethin' embedded in the blue that either acted as a magnet for lost, tortured artists or a source of comfort for spirits who seek out a truer home than the one they been told the story says to roll with. i could vouch for either, real easy, right hand up on the bible without a second thought. dazed, they draw me in to dine on the finest of nectars. sharp, they pose a challenge i can't say i don't cave to fear on more often than not, but that's 'cuz i've been lucky enough to learn the intellect that lies behind them. there's no dulling force to your intensity, 'n even when it ain't in my favor, thank god for it. that's part of what makes you you. acutiate each little blade of blue further, angel, then take each to my neck's nadir with a saccharine smile. you wield a weapon like you been trained by the masters' apprentices of an ancient art form. don't ever be shy. you can fade into me anytime you like, but if carving insignia's more your style on any certain evening, color me a fan. it's not like i ache to be claimed by a certain someone born on this day with the exact same name as yours who was adopted & is, like, real down for orange mints.
to her nose.
ski slope preciousness, a babydoll's soft remnant against a siren's seduction. nothin' lures a real lover in like that unmistakeable angel's kiss of a blush across the bridge that follows a kiss, even if it's short-lived 'n sweet 'n just for the goddamn hell of it. those sweet tiny freckles the sun'll sweep across the arc under enough sunlight make a grown man who's seen fifty forms of hell on earth believe laughter & light can be whole again, meaningful, & true. there's cute, then there's mother nature continuing to keep on at her masterwork. that's the same dedication you got to your own art. maybe y'all got some family ties up in there, vega, what with the sun in how it pales in comparison. 'n yeah, you can totally picture me jumping around like a fuckin' loon under your bedroom's balcony 'til i scale to the top to catch you eye to eye, face to face. then you might even catch my pale ass go pink in the same area. i stay real shy around a certain girl with a certain set of angel wings. the moonlight almost gives my finger a challenge in a trail to follow: silvery slip down the bridge, then a north star at the apex point. that trace of sugar-sweet innocence in the succubus? goddamn it. the taste of it lingering, blistering insistency. the shadow's cast in just the right angle, always somehow by accident, 'n all i can saywhile i'm still stuck in shock is i'm so happy to be so goddamn done for. sunlight, moonlight, any iter of the spectrum we call light seeks you out like a muse, 'n hell, blaming any of 'em would have me called a hypocrite. she's sweet, but mind you, she's razor-sharp enough to summon up varying degrees of the saccharine at the same time, & so she's sought out by even the insentient. by the wandering rays without a name to hold. it ain't a surprise. wouldn't be one if you rendered 'em full-on legitimately sensate neither. it's power, even in the smallest places. spectacular case, where the creator's mere existence aids natural elements into furthering their own works. pretty lil' button. you're adorable.
to her lips.
rose petals taunting, teasing, just brushed clear of eliot's poeticized dust. this is not for lack of use, for she speaks like how it feels to first hold a sparkler as a kid when you think what you're celebrating is independence, when your heart's got full feathers to the wings still & the heart can leap across the universe if it happened to be made challenge of the night. spoken word poetry through every syllable, & not just the kind that demands applause or hoots or hollers when the curtain's swept closed & velvet feel becomes her. the garden is for remembrances, which mean reflections on what's passed as well as creation of what we'll come to rewind to think of in the coming days. there's hardly a container worthy of granting them a hold for presentation: ceramic looks like concrete when you see how the immaculate ivory of her flesh gives gentle way to the blush of a sign of all gods' combined good times, a kiss of lingering jacqueminot. funny she runs into the crescent city kid amidst the potholes one winter night when below the glow of her nose, nature gifts the viewer a taste of lilac wine through their imagination alone. sparkling at the first fall of air, even clearing of the throat, you know you're in for something that'll sign a solid hancock on your memory, then it's all spumante sweetness against the rich timbres of something impossible to pin down off to bat. imagine the following auditorily: the finest lace, floral abstractions into the details of scattered strawberry seeds, draped over pitch-hued leather, but she doesn't carry the same kind of tough most'd be inclined to associate. she's adamant, driven, a woman who knows what she's after. the smooth-seductive element can't go without mention, let me re-emphasize, but closer to the core, her cords are pure gold harpstrings that make you wonder if they all glow like that down here on earth. she emits soundwaves, & you spin for a second, question for a second, glance down to the soles of your shoes like a loser (which a subconscious part of you might just hope she'll feed on, a menial offering to up the ante) to reassure that it's earth you stand on after all. after she's begun, the sound alone can leave you hovering, it feels, & that's only to talk on the tone.
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to her lips (cont.)
the precision of this woman's phrasing's locked in place. before a word's even thought up, you sense it. the gun's cocked, & if it isn't held to your temple, you yearn to feel its cool kiss, everything antithetical to what we call 'common sense' up on our plane of existence. but if she's even been born here, that's a miracle in itself. kid's got a kindness to her, a warmth like sunlight in endless refraction–– she'll label YOU the 'wordsmith', then tie your tongue in triple knots. do you know how tough it is to return the talk 'n stay on her level when your usual go-to tool is suddenly this strange-shaped ass muscle hteavy against the bottom of your mouth? no. no, you prob'ly don't, 'cuz when it's a real shit talk-like-people conversation, that crush fuel hits like the purest white china you can find, heroin straight up in the vein ('n you're like 'wait, fuck, have my veins had a goddamn g-spot the whole time they been in my body?'). the market's fucked, 'n so are you. she's got her own language, her collections of words that she can tell go good together, sure, 'cuz that's how we learn language, but goddamn, once you get into the vocabulary 'n uncover the sets of standards, when she spins off in any direction, it's like you're watchin' a music box ballerina spin free off her hard metal harness. syllables are ribbons, & she can whip you with 'em or win you with 'em or both at the same time. i been through that golden trio, 'n even where it can hurt, that shit hurts goddamn GOOD. the cravings never cease. you wish your hours were obsolete of other activity. you comtemplate all that controversy talk, on if time exists or not, as she continues her series of fouettes en pointe. baby pink silk worn in but never shown to wear out, each rotation's a rock chorus you revered since you was a kid. each glimmer you might imagine catching from her eye's got you blinking like you lost a lash to your own fuckin' eyeball. keep talking, keep dancing, keep the silk spinning on & on if you can because the shimmer sends my heart into the softest sort of overdrive any man could ever imagine. she describes the simplest, most base human functions like they're holy rituals. you sink into it, wilingly walk into the soft ebb & flow of the sun-warmed waves of those words lady magic's woven together. nostalgia don't compare, no matter if you grew up rich as mr. monopoly, saw the white-sand beaches at birth. the water of the words, the late summer breeze of the lungs that let it reach your lucky ear. lana del rey's written songs about this feeling, found it in depictions of sunsets nuzzling against the certainty of the shoreline. it's far off, it's impossible to find a definite for, so there ain't a use in wading out further to chase when right here's euphoria in its own right. why aim for an overdose on glory when the sun's burnt you bad before, melted you down to reshaped bone? there comes a point where you aren't left with much of a choice, are you? it's a full surrender with a smile, a baptism by the lyrics she lowkey don't even know she speaks in when she's cut off from trying hard 'n given way to the love higher powers've bestowed upon every cell, bone, muscle, freckle, scar, vertebrae. you just gotta laugh, throw up your hands as you feel the rain start to kick in. fuck it. i'm hooked. no matter what's been said when i been angry or in pain, i don't got regrets with responding that night. i don't think i ever could come up with a reason to, honest, i'm just a different person since, 'n though not all of that's a beautiful miraculous thing, everybody recedes a lil' bit here 'n there, a lot of it's let me know a lot more about what i want living to look like if my soul's placed up in this solar system for this round. i'm here to do sum'n, i just ain't able to do that alone 'n know i'm doing it at full capacity without you there with me. not now that i've heard the way you talk, the way you hum, the shower singalongs, the full elemental understanding of what it means to have an everything. no matter how things spin out the loom, whether a rough night or another bout of stubbornness we gotta figure what to do with, i need you to always know it'll always be you. any form of without is such a leech on a life. it's plastic. like the body they found on dexter that had got all the blood extracted out of it before authorities rolled up. there ain't the same warmth. the sun feels like a tv studio rig up. it's empty.
to be kissed by her is to taste heaven & to know what a fulfilled hope feels like to the touch. there ain't one i get that i don't find myself chasing after again like an excited retriever who just found home after another kick back into the pound. i cling to every & each, but that should be everyone's common sense instinct. but y'know, as the term's definition starts to kick at dust, i think it's fair to say common sense ain't too common at all when the world's got its eyes closed to everyone's internality. i'm grateful you see me past just my shell. you're one of very few i've felt the courtesy from.
to her love.
live-saving, life-threatening, life-altering, life in itself, a legitimate reason to cling to the shrapnels you got left of yourself to potentially experience a shred of again. impossible to replicate in any form, holy fuck, did i learn the hard way. sometimes difficult to decipher, but i like a little puzzle, 'n it ups the respect, even, 'cuz i'm fucked in the head 'n see a certain sorta smarts in that that they don't ever really teach you about. streets i'm solid on. book? depends what type, but no math ones. as for smarts on the heart, i thought i had my shit on lock before i met you. then i learned, literally as my hands shook while i paced around wondering how to reply to a compliment on my own goddamn name, i was such a goddamn amateur. like, i really thought i was hot shit! i really thought i could charm a motherfucker, then you ain't even introduce yourself yet 'n gravity falls through around me. that shit's unheard of. crazy. i live for it. everybody's after you, 'n they make it damn well known, which ain't the best for my possessive ass, i know, 'n i hate to ever make you feel bad on anything, 'cuz fact is i love you down so bad it's stupid, i'm just always so afraid imma lose you again. i know i ain't easy to put up with, 'specially when i'm legit just learnin' NOW how to do the whole gcs shit, i just wanna do stuff right so i don't look like i'm comin' at you with a dunce cap on. but shit, daniels. you got the whole world around that pretty lil' finger, 'n i learned why 'n how you got it like that real quick. beauty, brains, inexplicable multisensory brilliance in the way you breathe a singular sigh... i mean, yeah. checks out. whatever the 'it' factor is, you got that times a thousand.
intimacy's always been hard for us, 'n while i could be all like 'i don't know why' 'n act stupid, i feel like we both have an understanding (at least by now, hopefully) of how much it all means to us. physical touch, contact in itself, warmth, being held, holding somebody, gettin' rough 'n mean for the sake of a good time, like–––– we can't ignore we ain't strangers to it. i won't lie, a lot of the reason i never tried nothin' with you earlier (like, way earlier) was 'cuz i figured the obvious would be you'd be physically with me but mentally 'n spiritually with your ex. that, i refused to cave to, 'n i did think it was the case for a long while. i mean, sex is sex, but i knew the second i saw you, honey, it was never 'i have to bang the shit outta this chick bruh she fine as hell' it was somehow this soul understanding before i even could allow myself to follow you that i knew the love we could produce would literally fuckin' change my life. whether it meant set a new high standard or fall in love or land us with a kid or anything, i didn't know. it was the power in how you carried yourself, babe, like. the second i saw you 'n the way you spoke, the way you seemed to have this magic touch through pixels 'n hues alone, i knew i was entirely fucked because i had to have you, 'n based on all i saw, i never would, 'n probably never could. if nothin' else, bless stella's wackass for landing me on your timeline, 'cuz you really woulda never known i existed. intimidation ain't exactly the word for it, but the gut burn of a feeling was so intense it made my head feel full of helium. i'd say i underestimated it, but i don't even know, 'cuz i genuinely ain't even felt anything remotely close to it ever since. i wanted so badly. i needed, somehow, 'n was too pussy to press a button. it wasn't your energy that kept me from that, but we been thru that, the thing was just like. it sounds creepy as fuck, i know, but i knew if we ever spoke, if we ever embraced, kissed, fucked, made love, it'd be literally life-changing. i'd never get over it. i'd crave it incessantly 'n i'd be like a goddamn dog in heat even more often than i already am, 'n like. somehow it inverted in appearance so it came across as i didn't want that, but holy fucking christ honey daniels literally any time any place anywhere any circumstance just purr my name or say come play or straddle me down 'n pin my wrists so i ain't got a hope of escape 'n use me however the fuck you want. i am so thoroughly yours, i don't think you understand even still. i'm still awful at initiating 'cuz i don't wanna fuck up the direction of a chat or make it feel impossible to use, but shit, like. i want to worship you every second of my liiiiiiife, i want to pour so much of myself into you both literally in my cum & in the sense of my energy 'n effort that i got nothin' left for god knows how long. never hesitate, ever. i am constantly horny for you to a point of it making me feel like an animal instead of a man. we'd met fresh outta the leda shit, 'n that was coercion i've come to terms with 'n been able to come to terms with, but you NEVER are bothering me with dirty talk in any capacity or wake-up head or 'hey i have this fantasy' or anything. my only fear is that i'd never measure up to past partners in your eyes or that i'd be boring to you, but dude. i'm so serious when i say, i could be about to go on for a sold out stadium show, 'n if you wanted a quickie, the crowd'll have to hold a solid second. i ache for you with everything in me, in every sense.
every time i get to learn all over again that you taste twice as sweet as your name implies, i feel like the fucking chosen one. slipping inside you is the most beautiful sensation i'll ever know in life. the beauty of being held so intimately by the one you love with everything your entire heart's made up of is as close as i can imagine i'll ever get to heaven. you're just perfection. i'd continue, & if you want me to in your dms like i'm sure folks do all the time, i'm more than happy to, because holy fuck, you're an absolute dream of a woman. i keep in mind what you told me long ago about comparisons to figures known as represenatives of love all the time, so i won't say it outright, but the sex i've had with you is worlds, universes, entire solar systems past anything else i ever experienced, 'n that's from the tabloid token hollywood whore. really shows you what feeling a fuckin' feeling (or, y'know, a million or so at once) means. skin on skin's cute. true eroticism, carnal longing, the sort of thing that keeps blood pumping inside you––– respectfully & disrespectfully, at your heels & with a hand wrapped tight around your swanlike little neck, if i had shit my way, we'd never leave the bedroom.
before i tape my own mouth shut,
ms. daniels, check it. here we are. twenty-eight in the island of socotra. honored you chose to spend this day with me, like, you have no idea how my brain been racing even when we didn't talk on how the fuck i'd ever manage to give you anything near a sliver of those huge birthday things when i'm just this kafka quoting asshole who don't really have connects or nothin' like that. i thought i was fucked no matter what, but this is magical. thru the times, we've been many things or sometimes not even things at all depending on how the storyteller spins it, known a ton of tangles 'n enough knots in navigating the ins & outs & iters of this lifetime to easily label it as more than just one on its own. i've seen myself transform into thirty thousand different men since that night in january over two years back. can you believe we're comin' up on three? you've shown me so much about so much, which sounds like a bar written by a cheap-ass, ain't worth shit bullshitter, but it's the easiest & only true summation that spans the sensation as much as i feel it really can. every brushstroke makes a world of a difference. from a second taken to remember how somethin' could be worded with more consideration or a realization i can make a gesture that could be meaningful to someone. like, it's those little things you been awakening me to over the years 'n it never fully clicked in the moment in full, but it's come to shift my lens to where i can legit looking back see like oh. i really never did give much of a fuck about this one or that one, did i. i realized that, like, life isn't ever a definite thing, 'n when you gotta do what you gotta, it can hurt like fuck, but you know there ain't a way you're gonna get anywhere close to bein' better if you spend more time just sat there lettin' the party happen around you while you stare into space. like, lowkey, i do think that's a courage 'n integrity i lost real early on in feeling defeated with all that, but then i relearned it by lookin' atchu. even if it was your sternness towards me when you needed. you just've taught me a lot i mighta come in knowing but literally lost all sight of in the face of this fuckin' weird fear that half didn't even make sense to me, 'cuz like. ionno. regardless. you've been like a teacher to me when i lost the instruction manual on how to be an actual human person. there was a long while sitting in that static negative that i legit wasn't able to move physically, shit was unreal. 'n you know it made me feel insane, considering i ain't a real dude to begin with, but the vessel of it all, like. shit. you showed me how to person when i seriously'd come close to giving up on not even the situation of it all, but everything. like, sheer personhood. i was rotting. then memories funneled, 'cuz they always do, 'n even when they came with a sting, looking back taught me lessons. whether they was for better or for worse, i feel like they (& you, since you was innem) reshaped me into more of myself than i entered this bitch as. 'n for that, i can't not thank you.
i never knew art through a lens that didn't have a set of fret-lines & a set of strings, but you've shown me how life in itself is an art form. whether we're wanderin' off to european shores to repair a heart i hit the reverse pedal on too fast 'cuz the pain of playin' second-place to another lover wasn't a something i could stomach in my sickest, strangest nightmares. i've tossed. i've turned. we've lived, we've learned. here we are tonight, in a town that's tiny & beautiful, alien & intimate, a space to share in the safehaven we somehow stay finding in one another over & over & over again. i couldn't be more grateful for you, honey. the magic you've brought into my life is beyond words. to all the art we've made & all the art to come. 'thankful' could never suffice how i feel on the day to day for the selves you've introduced me to inside my own skin. crazy when the painter teaches the musician how a palette gets used proper, turns out what he thought just a single shade can actually become a billion. by your side, it's color's full spectrum. it's innovation without apology 'n learning how to life. 'n that's crazy to get that far, but for what it's worth, there ain't a soul in the world i'd rather learn it with than yours.
here's to a fuckin' life, baby. i wanna explore everything 'n everywhere with you. i wanna get close enough to legitimately combine, past just penetration. you're everything. you're more. & i can't tell you how much it means to be able to say you're my girlfriend. it makes my life feel like a legit ass neverland. i am so, SO fuckin' in love with you, sweet girl.
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