Choosing

I have had you on my mind;
you sent me your hurt and anger
I want to honor that and hear you.
I want to change how we are together.
Old patterns to unravel for me,
for you only you can say.
But I so miss your skin,
the warmth of your smile,
your mouth on mine.
I could choose to focus
on complimentary wounds
to make this only about
how far there is to go still,
on the work we have to do
in the space between us.
I am not denying that is real.
But I want to choose
to think about our joy,
our laughter, our desire,
the brush of your hand
on my cock, or mine
on your nipples. The way
you tease apart everything
from my body to my words
and find inside their true essence.
You said comfort isn’t sexy. Oh,
my lover, you are not seeing
what comfort is for me;
your hands and your eyes,
your mouth and your heat
pressed against me.
If you were here now,
I would take your head in my hands
and kiss away your doubts
and let your tears flow as they must
until all that is left within us
is fire and golden sparks
and then, then, I would show you
what comfort truly is.