Skimming the surface


I feel seen by your eyes; this frightens me

A bead of sweat drips down your face. I stare, enthralled. I find myself contemplating its flavor.

Your mouth has got me shook. I cant. Stop. Staring.

I peek inside your mind and find it lined with shelves, littered with papers and books, some left open and forgotten. I imagine you skim through them from time to time. But only when necessary

I want to be there when you get out of the shower to smooth your skin with shea butter while your body is still steaming, and hot, and wet

Sometimes, I imagine you’re stretched out beside me. We lay on cool green grass below a tall sprawling tree, sheltered from the blazing sun

you know how when you’re reading and you realize your mind has wandered? Well, my mind wanders to you

I fantasize about loving you. For this, I blame you and I blame Audre. In no particular order.

If I’m right, you think of me slightly less than I think of you, this both draws me back and drives me forward

List for me the following:

your favorite book

your favorite poem

your favorite song

I want to search for you in their words

The next time we are alone, I will not tell you how I feel

I write around you, not about you. I tell myself skimming over you is easier than diving in.


Everything that you said to me was directly out of a script. You posed your words to have the utmost effect on my fragile, nubile sensibilities. The stage was set, enter, you. You who were all wisdom and experience. How many roads have you walked down? Feet bare and tan, curling your toes deep into the earth on each downbeat. Wandering down some obscure path, uncertain of your future, ambling forward just the same. Standing a little bit taller for coming out the other side. Yes you, weathered adventurer, you who walked in from stage left, and spun a wonderfully woven web. That web, certain to snare the cagiest of prey, most formidable of foes, and I was caught.