It's three o' clock in the morning. I should be sleeping right now because I have a nine o' clock class, but I can't. So I'm here wide awake in bed beside Michael watching as the moon light plays with the hills and valleys of his body as he breathes. If I could draw I'd be sketching him right now. But instead my mind clings like dew to leaves to the image of him naked spread out for me. A succulent feast of pale skin and supple flesh laid out on an altar of linen sheets and down pillows. The moon has created these shadings on his body that only someone like Michelangelo could appreciate. There's a play of light and dark that makes his body a priceless work of art. And he's here with me, in our bed, sleeping soundly yet in anticipation of being wakened. Touched and loved my be.
In my mind I write and re-write sonnets to the luscious quality of his alabaster skin how it feels pressed up against mine and the deep wells of his eyes. I get lost in them finding new ways to rediscover home. Brown pools of chocolate warming me from the inside out. I whisper homilies about his raven hair and how I can glimpse precious moments of blue black in it. Running my fingers through it is like gliding naked through the physical presence of midnight. My mind sings hosannas about the touch of his hand against my face as he kisses me. Drowning me in sensation making me feel as though there is nothing invading my body but his love for me.
Wanting him isn't the point and having him isn't enough. It's like being intoxicated and my mind swimming because nothing is real but the look in his eyes when I enter him our bodies become a furious pumping machine driving the other to the edge to ecstasy. And then diving head long into it and bathing there until the world makes us surface back into the reality of what is, not what is wished.
I'm like a junkie and he's my drug of choice and I jones for him all time and that's something I never thought would happen to me. That I'd find someone who loved me the way he does with no fear and no hesitation. Someone who fights with me as he fights for me. Someone to whom I can sing praises to while being praised.
It's like everything and nothing, it's like being here and gone. It's like knowing the secrets of the universe and having it all taken away only to rediscover it. It's like the dream of love where nothing can go wrong while living the reality of love where shit usually does go wrong, but somehow you find your way back to center and he's always there waiting with open arms. Its understanding that nothing changes while everything's changed. And who you are isn't who you thought you'd be.
I'm not as alone as I once thought I was. There's someone there willing to face all the ugly with me. Someone that makes all the ugly beautiful in spots so that I can get through it.
God I want him, I need him, I have to have him.
For him I'm sinner and saint. I'm his husband and his willing whore. I'm anything he needs me to be. Fuck I need another hit.
"Baby wake up."