i want astonishing conversations and interactions. i want even better silent moments. i want to seize him inside when he laughs and envelope him when he cries. i want to be the pen he fingers delicately when recording his most beautiful thoughts. i want to experience malaise when he does because i want to relate to every moment when his limbs are heavy. when he feels a void i want my every genetic to fill it, my voice, the way i blink my eyes and the exact speed of the breath that comes out of my mouth. i want to inspire him when he is at a loss for words and i always want to give him something to write about. i want him to miss me when he is away…. i want to find the atom that was closest to me before i was in this pretty skin i’m in and catch it in a butterfly net. i want us to paint the sky without paper and i don’t want to be afraid of its profundity. i want to dream of you and with you, thousands of nights on egyptian cotton that we created out of un-paved roads. i want to place you in my pocket and never change my pants. i want us to be surer than death, even. more prominent than revolutionary scriptures recently discovered from back in the “before christ” period. we will be insane when we’re silent, insane when we’re loud, and more controversial than clockwork orange. [always]
and yet i have no void that needs to be filled by lawfully adoring stares.i am content without falling for the societal voice of the way things should be….