solace

You reassure me with your lips that you want me.
You reassure me with your curiosity that I am interesting.
You reassure me with your hugs that you care about me.
You reassure me with your physical presence that you enjoy time with me.
You reassure me with your body that you find me attractive.

There is no reading between the lines with you.
I do not have to second-guess myself.
You give me space to be so freely me.
You meet me where I am.
The questions you ask me feel almost as though you read my most anxious thoughts and want to weave them out.
You're so delicate and gentle with me; I fear you make me feel like the world’s most expensive glass when I am near you.

The art our feelings could create would be sold for millions, then displayed largely on walls, and everyone would wonder how something so chaotic could create such a sense of fluidity. How it just—makes sense.
I want the world to know us anonymously. I don't want anyone to spoil what we share. And when our time concludes, everyone will say they could have guessed it was us.