The Delicate Hour

You are inside me. Like time, like air, like water. I think of you, I breathe. I think of you, I'm alive. I think of you and I'm aroused, revealed, free and nothing else matters. I think of you, as I walk, as I desire, as I drift and wander alone because you are not here. I see you in the faces of strangers, friends, lovers, enemies. I see you in all of them, beneath the skin, beneath the flesh, beneath the marrow. I think of you when it's dark, cold and unforgiving. When the thought of you washes away the fear, the anguish, the memory and the dirt from my feet. I think of you and wonder, if the man I am is worthy of you, your love, your divinity, your sorrow...when we're on the floor, broken, raw and ashamed. When every shadow bears the face of angels. When every whispered word, cuts to the bone. I want to kiss you now, hold you, fuck you, touch you, speak too you in tongues and in the darkest hours, when there is no mercy, embrace you. I want to know no illusions, no fear, no hesitation as the world dissolves and you are there, naked and alone but for me. I think of you, in this graceful, delicate hour and all there is...is the thought of you.

-AAB