I felt more alive and in love when you ran your fingers in my hair as I kissed your stomach and started blowing you than during certain points of holding you in the afterglow

i guess it’s the reminder that i’m not supposed to find purpose or true peace in someone’s boxers.

I’m seeing you again in about a week. We haven’t spoken too much since we last saw each other. It took me a while to be okay with this.

I still hear you telling me this wasn’t going to be “a thing,” but I can’t help but hope you’re willing to go back on your word. I don’t want a continuation or consummation, I want a rematch. I want you to know I was irredeemably nervous throughout our encounter, and I can do much better than what I gave you that cold night in January.

But even then, it doesn’t seem right that I’m so fixated on you.

But I’m still fixated on the ones I didn’t win. I haven’t won you.

I won Billy. I won Morgan. I won other men who won’t be discussed in this blog. Some of them I won without any effort.

But you exist with ease outside of me. You’ve proven that you don’t need me around. And that’s unfortunately why I feel the need to win you over.

I want you to notice when I’m not around.

It took me a while to realize I don’t understand love. I don’t understand myself much either.

Only a week or two ago we were at the beach, floating serenely in the cool ocean. And as we held hands to make sure we didn’t drift apart, I felt that grand feeling where nothing could ever decay. No other moment could possibly bring me down. We were immaculate.

But at some point last night I was amazed at how incredibly empty I felt. What was I doing there? What would I prefer to be doing? I suppose I would rather have been sleeping, but what an odd thing to think with someone so lovely in your arms. Even if I wished I was home asleep, even if you felt like a stranger, I was a bit too content in my position holding you to feel like moving.

But I was scared by the void, which at least means I’m not completely lost. The heart I have left hurt for you, your breath rising and falling so peacefully against me, unaware of the turmoil you clung to.

So I clung to you, this reminder of my humanity and my existence. I held you closer to me and you reciprocated, pulling yourself closer and nestling your head closer under mine.

It reminded me that I didn’t just come to you because of my feelings, but because of yours as well. It will take me a while to understand what you see in me, no matter how far I’ve come in seeing myself as someone desirable, but I relinquish my control and accept your fondness. What sort of hollow, creaking thuds do you hear when you lay your head on my chest? “I can’t grow a new heart,” said Courtney Michelle. But mine sits with all of the giveaways and throw-outs and donations in this dusty junk shop and if you’re that interested in taking it home I can sneak a discount. It’s the least I could do for a sweet young man like yourself.

I tried to protect you from the sour air of my conscience by holding you as close as a real boy could be held, and you embraced me in every sense of the word. Maybe you’re afraid as well. Maybe you believe I’ll protect you from the grief in the center of your heart. I’d certainly be willing to risk myself to keep you safe. Maybe you’re already at peace, gentle and warm and cradled in the idea that someone very special loves you.

And I suppose it would be impossible to bask in someone’s love if there was no heart in that person to supply love.

So I suppose you’ve proven that I do have a heart.

Thank you, Billy.

I’ve been trying so hard to control myself, knowing you’re leaving, knowing that I have a tendency for intensity.

I don’t quite know what it is that I feel just yet. But I feel 100% when I’m with you. I feel that grand hubris of youth, confident nothing will change and no one will ever die. After a while it hurts to smile because all I’ve been able to do around you is smile. Any noise you make when we’re together is every noise I ever needed to hear. And after giving so much to someone else to have it rot into the ground and decay in front of me, this is nice. To be able to expose your heart to the elements and not care about freezing or trauma, because there’s finally just a bit of sun to warm everything.

I don’t quite know if it’s my genuine feelings or the fear of you leaving so soon that compels me to say I love you. In the meantime I’ve placated myself with more specific ways of declaring it: That you’re so sweet and warm, you’ve always been so good to me, that it must feel nice to know that somebody needs you, that holding you in my arms made me feel powerful. But I keep worrying one day it will slip out before you’re ready. And as you were lying there drunk telling me that you just don’t feel as confident fucking sober, but you would be willing to face this anxiety for me, the first thing to come out was “I’m sure I’ll love sober you.”

It probably just sounded like the stutter that only appears when I’m talking to you, but it was hearing the word “love” come out of my mouth and realizing too late I should have substituted it with “like” or even “I’m sure sober you is great” or anything other than love.

But it could have been worse. You could have interrupted your talk about how you were just a learning experience for me and I’d go on to do such lovely things and have such lovely people love me after you left for the city, because you could have noticed I was crying the whole time. Maybe you felt a tear or two drip onto your face, but you were unperturbed. I hope you know I’ll miss you desperately. I hope you know how much I care, but in a way that won’t make you want to leave earlier.

We’re just kids in the eye of the storm dreaming of home, aren’t we, Billy?