Emotional Safety

You trail your hand across my stomach, where the shy flesh peaks out at us.
Your kohl-eyed stare and milk chocolate skin make me lower my shoulders.
You exhale on my neck, and I breathe in more oxygen than before.
Can we live in this warm, peachy spring forever?
Can we return here after our most terrible moments—
when I'm an insecure wreck and you're a grandpa grumpy-pants—
only to be this transcendent again—this full of healthy life?
We can be more beautiful together than we ever could apart—I'm sure of it.

See the nuanced tones of novelty, beneath a familiar and forgiving light.
We fade in and up and out, because we can finally be this still.
Chaos rings out its alarms behind us in the distance,
but each embrace that we hold hushes them deeper into silence.
Let's barrel-roll over the fears and break them apart, together,
because we took back our power, together.
Please, can we live in this smooth affinity forever?
This safety is everything to me now, and I want all of it.

An old flame told me that I'm boring now, and I took it as a compliment.
"One man's boring is another man's bliss"—my voice cracks a bit.
You laugh because you know the kinds of men I used to love.
It took me this many wars to realize that peace is even an option.

I haven't told you yet that I'm falling in love with you.
I close my eyes and recreate the satin contours of your face—
the sharpness of you cheekbones—the almond slant of your eyes,
and it feels about time for another write about love.