Close Up.

get away from me

sometimes i had to shut my eyes when i was so close to your face.

maybe it was muscle memory of kissing you.

maybe it was because your presence was too 

intense for me at that distance

and i needed to feel you instead of see you

like a religious calling or a dead relative.

i needed to feel your breath against me rather than witness

the mechanics of your rising chest and flared nostrils.

i needed to hear your throat swallowing saliva and 

the intimate interior gurgles against

my skull rather than 

watch your neck intermittently ripple and shift.

i needed to sense the hum of your energy against my skin

rather than watch you move and feel the abundance of love swell.

maybe it was because

when our bodies were pressed together

everything was so complete and full 

the lights could have gone out for good.


when i think about it

it was because i kept going cross eyed.

yours is the only body i can stand to hear digest

there were moments, lying against your chest,

where the contentment seemed ultimate enough 

that the lights could have gone out for good. 

a level of physical comfort almost obscene. 

there was nothing to be done, no itch to be scratched or 

muscle to be relaxed. there was only the sounds of the inside of you, 

the intimate noises of your body keeping you alive. 

beating and rushing and squelching.

i felt your arm around me, our legs bundled together like 

twigs wrapped in twine. all so simple, so 

outstandingly normal. 

despite its thoroughly physical origins, it was not a sexual realisation. 

it was romantic to the point of being simply human. 

such stark affinity, i closed my eyes and felt that

i was full enough to never need to open them again.

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