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I want to sleep with you under the moonlight,
damp cold grass and two warm bodies.
I want to tell you I love you
and let you love me too.
To hide from the thunder beneath soft blankets.

To curl up in a cave alone,
writing,
or drawing,
or sleeping,
or talking till we turn and see the sun has set.

I'm very in love today,
but I'm not sure whom I'm writing this to.

To swirl in the center of my reference frame,
worldwings,
(believe in me?),
at least I'll believe in you.

The world is like silk, and I love it
simply.

Will you be my brother, my sister, my child?
Will you be my lover?
We'll dance together in the rain,
clinging beneath the named trees,
laughing with the sheer impossibility of it all.

To be sanely in love,
gently, peacefully in love,
rejoicing softly in your skin,
the peace on your face in sleep,
the unconscious way you hold me.

If you would make me yours, and no other's....

Or shouldn't it be enough simply to love you?
Wrapped around and around in a cycle of completeness,
we are neither of us perfect;
we keep our own spheres,
touching, bouncing away,
but they are all in the same sphere.

Two boundaries, bounded souls,
similar and individual,
bound with the desperate longing to get inside your skin,
and let you be a part of me.

And I'll sleep now,
alone in the darkness with the gentle rain,
and the darkness,
and thoughts of you.