Small intimacies, they matter
In the gestures of every day living
Out of the comfort that comes from care
All that sharing brings
The way your thumb plays with my knuckle when I hold your hand. When you brush hair from my cheek and put it behind my ear. When you say my name. The way your lap molds to my weight. Dressing beside you. When you talk about your day, 
the show you saw, the thought you had sitting on the bus. Walking beside you through warm air and crisp breezes. The way soap suds fall down your body, eventually slipping off the end of your sweet, sleepy cock. Sipping hot drinks on cool mornings, the sun bathing our sleepy eyes in promise. The way you reach back for me, your eyes smiling over your shoulder. When your breath catches. The pitch of your voice as you rant about whatever it is that grips your heart’s attention. When you ask and then listen. Watching you wake. The way your name feels in my mouth. The texture of your arms. Your words. Every smile you give me.
the show you saw, the thought you had sitting on the bus. Walking beside you through warm air and crisp breezes. The way soap suds fall down your body, eventually slipping off the end of your sweet, sleepy cock. Sipping hot drinks on cool mornings, the sun bathing our sleepy eyes in promise. The way you reach back for me, your eyes smiling over your shoulder. When your breath catches. The pitch of your voice as you rant about whatever it is that grips your heart’s attention. When you ask and then listen. Watching you wake. The way your name feels in my mouth. The texture of your arms. Your words. Every smile you give me.
Each gesture is intimate.
Every day is a comfort knowing you care
What matters is not time or distance but the sharing
The living and the trying again and the doing the best we can