And This? This Is More

I always go back to the saying that goes, “If you don’t know, then you just don’t know.”
I’m sure you understand this, at least from your own perspective.

I love this, by the way,
The way no one else is here, except us.
I love that you and I can speak freely, at least here.
I love that I can close the door and share my things here, without worry or fear that somehow, my old truths will find their way back and the retaliation will be swift and merciless.
In fairness, I am just a kid.
I am that boy, I told you about.
I am that kid who wishes and wants and hopes that maybe (someday) I can arrive at your doorstep to see you answer the knock.
My eyes will open wide and my smile will be bigger than my face when I see what you’re wearing.
And I will hand you a corsage and weave my arm through yours, so we can finally have a dance, which I have been waiting lifetimes to have .

I love that I can show you everything I’ve done or worked on.
And I love that I can expose everything to you (at least here) and all of my secrets are safe and sound, like a newborn baby swaddled and curled in the palm of The Great and Almighty Mother.
Mother, as in the Mother of All, as in full of grace—the Lord is with thee because blessed was she amongst all women and blessed was the fruit of Her womb.

By the way . . .
I love that I can say this and you see where I’m coming from. I can say this here because to me, this is less about the Goldy religion and more about the purity of holy attitude.
I choose this because in my eyes, the quote is only used to depict a better description of my love, which is all I have.
This is everything to me. Hence, as diseased as our thinking can be and as tainted as my soul might appear, —deep down, I know there is something “out there” for me.
I know mu purity has not been wasted or destroyed.
it’s in there.
I know it.

And I know there is something pure and something beautiful about this, —even for a retch like me.
This is why I use quotes from the scriptures and this way I say my quotes have nothing to do with faith or the Heavenly Father.
No, I say this because I appreciate the attitude of unconditional love, redemption, and forgiveness.
I want to believe in this despite us or the way we are as a species.
I choose to think this way.
Even if I am wrong.
Then fine.
I have to believe though.
I just have to.

I’m sorry if this makes me weak or small.
I choose to believe because I love the idea that despite my flaws, there are redeemable aspects about me.
I want to believe there is a goodness about me that far outweighs the surface level bullshit.
I want to believe there is something both inherently and intrinsically beautiful about me so that my fears or my ugly disposition is not so ugly.
I know all about me.
I know about the evil which comes out when my triggers are pulled or the runs in my fabric are exposed—and hence,  I react and furthermore; I am seen more for my imperfections than I am my inner miracles.

inner miracles.
is this a real thing?
I hope so

If you don’t know, then you just don’t know.
And this is not to say you, per se, or you personally.
No, I suppose this me speaking out loud, which is what I do with you anyway.
I speak out loud with hopes that you hear and feel every word.

But speaking openly, I suppose if you don’t know then my next thing to say is if you don’t know then you can’t know.
And how could you know?
How would you know what it’s like to see from my eyes or feel from my skin?

No one can see what I see or feel what I feel.
A person can feel with me or we can feel similarly.
I get that.
But in the end I will never know your depth of touch and nor will you feel mine.

And this? This right here is another reason why I’ve come to sit with you.
Understand?
Even if you can’t feel from my hands, I want you to know.
I want to explain everything to the best of my ability.
I want you to know, regardless of whether this is good or if this leaves me open and vulnerable, —no matter what, I want you to see everything I have and leave nothing unexposed

Also, I want to do this as best as I can.
I can’t let this go.
I have to do this “all the way” because I want to leave nothing behind.
Understand?
And, if an end comes, then at least I can say that I gave you my all>
At least I won’t have no excuses or regrets.

So you know –
I have always been this way.
Just to be clear.
I have always wanted “this,” and I emphasize the word “this” to express the emotion that comes with the terms of wanting you more.
I want this, you, more and I want it all, as if to prove that you are all I’ve ever wanted and you are the only person in this world who can see me like you do.
(like this.)

I cringe, but only slightly.
I shake my head with a slight feeling of discomfort because I am sure that what I say is not strong or tough and nor is this the manliest approach.
And yes, absolutely.
I have questioned my manhood more than once.

I have questioned myself. I have questioned life.
I have questioned whether life is real and if it is, I have questioned whether love is real—and dammit all, I want all of this to be real.
I want everything.
I want you to be real or as real as real can be.
But for now, this is us.
This is me.
This is me bleeding out loud and showing you my true colors.
However, and as for you, I have never seen anyone as colorful or as beautiful.


Then again, are we so different?
How are you when I tell you what I see?
And when you look in the mirror, does your reflection reflect the version of you that I see?

I say this because the worst of all my crimes outweighs the violence or the outrage and the thefts, because the worst of all my crimes are the sins that made you question your worth or your beauty.
Worst than anything else is to make someone who has all the beauty in the world make them question if they are “enough” and dull the shine of your glowing beauty.
I did this.
I have no defense.
I admit to my sins and thus, I will face my punishment today, tomorrow, or whenever I have to face my creator.
Either way, I confess.
Nothing is worse than damaging the trust and the truest form of someone’s beauty.

We all have our differences.
And we all have our own science.
But let me ask you –
Are we that opposite and are we so polar that we cannot relate or understand each other.
Being different is fine to me.
Wait, no.
Let me solve this, here and now.
Being different is excellent.
I love this about you because our differences can act like a perfect contrast.
Or more, these are the seasons that add our flavors to this thing we life.
Nothing tastes as good as you.

Are we so different?
Are we so far detached that we can’t understand what it feels like to be engaged or turned on by something?

I offer that our differences bring us down to the core. We all have a core.
This is the heart, which is something that we both have.
 We all have a heart, which is taken in both a figurative and literal concept.
We need this because the same as our heart beats and pushes blood, our soul needs the same pulse to live beyond the simple levels of a plain or simple existence. 

Do you want honesty?

And be mindful that honesty and self-deprecation is not the same thing.
I explain this because if fear is fear and insecurity is insecurity, then honesty is simply being honest about fear or thoughts. 

So . . .

I suppose I never knew what it is (or was) about me.
Or if there was something about me, I never knew why anyone so beautiful (like you) would stay with me.
I assumed that anyone as beautiful or meaningful (as you) would leave me at some point or realize (at some point) that I am unworthy or worse; my biggest fer is that I am unremarkable or plain..

So, yes . . .
I have never told you.
And if I never tell you, then you will never know.
The way your skin feels is perfect to me.
This is one of your sexiest things, by the way.
This triggers something inside of me, like a vibration, and once you touch me; my skin feels you on the inside—if that makes sense.
I have held hands with other people before.
And I can say that I have held hands and compared other touches to yours.
But before I declare anything, please, make no mistake, —no touch from any hand is more moving or or motivating to me than yours.
If I lose you, then I lost everything and if I lost everything, then I don’t want anything else because anything else would only be a substitute and thus, I would have settled for less (again)

I notice you.
I notice everything about you –
like the way your lip curls at the corner when you smile or how you laugh . . .
And do you know what else?
All of this makes me somehow forget that yes, there are indecencies in this world—but as indecent as this place can be, you somehow repair the broken pieces of an otherwise destroyed environment,

And it’s not that I don’t feel pain or that I never hurt, but somehow, you make my pain become unnoticeable—until you leave, that is.
Everything about you—

The way your kiss tastes. And the way your skin tastes. Or the way your body tastes when I lick you—or the way your eyes roll or how you moan, or the way you point your toes when your legs curl to wrap around me—there are countless perfections about you.

You are more than beautiful
More than sexy
More than amazing and all of this is more than sexual, yet, I admit it—seeing you in my mind and thinking about the way you feel or the way you moan or say my name is more than anything Heaven can offer me.

Or maybe you are the only proof of Heaven on Earth
At least, for me.

And should I have to stand alone because my haste made waste and this is “too little too late,” then so be it.
But whether I am too late now; for all my faults, I refuse to ever settle again or accept another hand in mine—aside from yours,

I want to tell you something . . .
  . . .I don’t know how my kinks came about.
And I don’t know where I learned about my secret desires.
All I know is that I have them.

And if the chance came to me now, I would love to show you something, one inch at a time.