The Moon and More

All In Love


I want every touch and every message to be tender. Make it drip with the feeling I have. The first feeling. Not the second. Second. It has too much of the untouchable primeval inside. If I could banish it. 

I might. 

The first. The first is too right. It has all the manners and the good intentions and the please and thank you and I wouldn’t DREAM of it! Always too considerate.

I would be the perfect gentleman. 


I were a gentleman. I could be. If I tried. 

To ignore my anatomy.

Falls back to the second. Second. 

With all of it’s untouchable primeval wants and needs and more and me and touch and feel and don’t think don’t think don’t thank. 

When do I have a choice? 

When do I not?

Perfection is subjective. 

At least to me. 

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