Please, Don't Move Your Hand

I’m sitting there—

alone

on a bench.

 

You wanted to see the Milky Way.

So I arranged it

for you.

 

You sit next to me,

the park bench slates pressing on your ass—

uncomfortable, I know…

but you do it anyway.

For me.

 

You lift your arm,

wrap it

around the back of my neck.

Forearm brushing my skin

as it glides on.

 

My entire body—

my nervous system—

they look at each other and nod.

In unison.

 

They relax.

So safe.

 

You make me feel that way.

 

Reaching down,

you place your hand

on my heart.

Lean your head on my shoulder,

and—

 

pat tap.

To the beat.

 

Pat pat… pat pat… pat pat…

your hands move.

 

My little heart percussionist,

you are.

 

I love it so.

 

I am bare

to you.

All of me.

 

Your presence

has that effect.

 

It is so welcome.

So, so welcome.

 

I slant my head

just so—

kiss your head.

 

The smell of hair and scalp

brings me peace.

For some damn reason.

 

We gaze at the sky,

us both,

marveling at that sky canvas

painted millions of years ago.

 

But while you look up—

I turn

my gaze

to you.

 

From the side,

your silhouette

is more vast than the Milky Way.

To me.

 

Your eyes—

they smile in wonder.

 

So full of life!

Bright,

happy,

curious,

longing…

 

and there’s hurt there,

although hidden.

 

Not ready to reveal itself.

 

That’s OK with me.

That hurt is yours

to share

when you will.

 

And I decided—

then and there—

to love you

forever.

 

You,

and all of your complexity.

And your sexy-as-fuck self.

 

To show you how I feel,

I use my mind powers.

 

I send a white light

that emanates from

all of me—

my toes,

my beard,

my nose,

my pores.

 

I push that light

from deep inside.

Create it.

Send it

to you.

 

Wrap you in it.

 

A light-cocoon

of love,

of peace.

 

Of comfort.

Of safety.

Of space

to just…

be.

 

If you accept it—

you will transform,

just like the butterfly does.

 

It’s the least I can do

to return the ease

you’ve given me.

 

So brief

it has been.

 

You move a bit—

and your hand

stops

the beat.

 

And I ask you,

with love in my voice:

 

Please…

don’t move your hand.

 

Keep it with me.

On me.

Forever.

 

And I

will help

your heart

beat.

 

And you

will help

mine

beat.

 

And our hearts—

they will beat

as one.

 

I will care for you.

Love you.

Nurture you.

Support you.

 

For as long

as I can—

I will do that

for you.