the finest man.

we lie in your bed
with nothing but linen
and the exposed embodiment
of beauty and pleasure.
i roll over on my side
and my breasts gently fall onto your body,
stroking your desire
and craving for devotion.
you don’t look at me and i don’t look at you.
we breathe.
and i collect all your breaths
in the depths of my existence.

the distance.

flowers don’t bloom in the fall because even roses can feel sadness from separated lovers.