celestialpersuasion

41

it’s been a year today since the first time we ever went out together. if someone told me 365 days ago that today i’d be sitting at the edge of your bed watching as you sleep, shirtless and laid out like you’re posing for a painting, i wouldn’t have fully believed them. you’re so picturesque, it hurts. angel-kiss freckles on your chest, illuminated by the fraction of light coming through the windows that have themselves witnessed all of the daydreaming you’ve done. only you could make me believe in god, just with that chain you wear. people wear jewelry to adorn themselves, but it’s you who brings beauty to that necklace. i wish you knew how genuinely beautiful you are. physically, you are a sight to be seen, everyone whose seen you knows. eyes that entrance anyone who looks into them, lips that give the gentlest kisses, steady hands that anyone would love to have touch them, a jawline that gives the strongest inclination to the man’s man trope. but it’s your heart and your mind that make me say “you’re beautiful”. your eyes can turn even the darkest sight into something exquisite; your eyes will tell what you feel. your lips hardly speak anything bad about anyone, and say something positive even when it seems like there’s nothing good happening. your hands will try their best to fix something broken, to rub the back of someone hurting until they feel whole again. it’s you, it’s all you.

July 12th, 2020

My favorite memories with you will always be the ones when we’re alone in your bedroom, having some mundane conversation that turns into us laughing and grabbing at each other, or covering our faces to muffle the gleeful giggling. The sound of your laugh is my favorite thing. It’s been a little while now, but I know I’ll always be proud when I cause you to laugh with your whole chest. I know there are a lot of days when you feel like you’re floating through life, but if I can do anything to ground you just a little bit, I will. Always, I will.

I’ve said it many times before, but making you feel happy and content and wanted is all I want to do. I mean it when I say that you’ve given me more than you realize, and I don’t know how I could ever repay you for that.

But then, I’ve learned because of you, that relationships aren’t about doing things tit-for-tat. They’re about doing them because you want to, and because they matter to the other person.

when it’s new / when it’s not

11/21/19

your brother asked me last night if we were official yet, and i didn’t really know what to say. on one hand, we function as a couple, together as one until, no-holds-barred. i tell you my life story, and you tell me yours. you pick me up late at night, and i stay over. cuddled into your chest. good-bye kisses and whispered sweet nothings in my ears when you cradle me in your arms. but also, still, we haven’t had that talk yet, haven’t established it. you could still change your mind, back out. but god i hope you don’t. and i don’t think you will.

1/15/2020

walking down the sidewalk on a sunny afternoon

the gentle tap of the rubber soles of my worn-in tennis shoes reminds me that, yes, my presence is of the physical kind too.

more than a wandering mind searching for something to ground me to the world you say i live in, but that i forget that im supposed to be a part of.

because there’s a difference between existing and living.

like, sure, on paper we’re together, and i’ve seen our bodies as one, moving fluidly without a second thought, but it’s been a while since our minds and souls have felt like they were sleeping together like we did those first few nights when everything was brand new and my heart raced when you put your arm around my waist and i felt your heart race, because my head was on your chest and my lips were close to your neck and fuck i know now how much you love neck kisses.

the bottom poem i wrote when i was internally going through a rough patch with my boyfriend. nothing in the relationship itself was wrong, but i managed to convince myself there was. my man struggles with his own mental health issues, as i do. for a few days or so, i let myself believe that there was something i had done, or not done, because watching your partner struggle with things, and not being able to help can be really hard to sit with. but i had to learn that projecting those feelings is no way to help him, or the situation. i have to trust that he will communicate rather than hold onto anything that involves me. because being with someone is bigger than just you and your feelings. im working on this every single day. when you want to be with someone, you have to practice and learn how to be the best partner, while also taking care of yourself.

-celestialpersuasion

One Month & One Week

It’s 11:23 in the morning and I’ve been at your house for a week and a half. The dresser drawer you gave me, fourth from the top, is full of the clothes I’ve been shuffling around for a while now. My perfume sits upon your dresser-top, next to your cologne, and in front of the red lava lamp I’ve never seen you plug in. I came over the day after Christmas, late at night, and have been spending the night ever since. Every afternoon I wake up to you sleeping next to me. More often than not, your face tucked into the pillow you hold like it’s a human you never want to let go of.

It’s 2:30 in the morning and I’m exhausted, but I want you because it’s been a week and a week is far too long. We’re watching Supernatural in bed. The screen is all black and white, the sound of the Impala drones in the background. Two gruff voices speak and I hear it in the very back of my mind. You lean over me and say you’re reaching for the remote. Half-conscious, and I just want to kiss you. I think we both know where this is going. Lips are moving, enraptured, and I bite your neck just a little to show you what I want. Deep moans come from your throat; I feel it under your smooth skin, right below the scratchy place where your hairline recently got a lineup. One hand of mine reaches up to cradle your jaw, the other is somewhere on your arm, or your shoulder. I’m not too sure.

Lips are back on lips and I move my head so yours can be put on my neck just how I like. You’re on my left side now, your right hand coming up to be put around my neck. You don’t squeeze, but that’s okay because I know you at least caught on to the joke I made hours before about liking that. (Not that it was a joke.) That hand moves its way down my stomach and back up along my chest. Feeling, trusting, heightening. I like feeling your body on mine. Not even in an exclusively sexual way, but in an all-encompassing way. Your body, a vessel for the soul I’ve fallen in love with.

In love with you. I haven’t put that on paper before. I’ve thought of it. I’ve looked you in your green eyes, with the golden flecks and the thick black eyelashes, and I’ve whispered it in my mind. But writing it down is something different because writing is all I’ve had throughout much of my life.

You bite on my neck, sucking with the mouth that’s given me pleasure to the point where I lose control of my body. Then it’s on because your body is hovering over mine, and you’re pulling my grey sweatpants off. Fingers enter my body and you do that thing I love, that only you know about, that only you could ever do. I’m unable to control the breathy sounds coming out of my mouth, and I can’t not lay with my arms around you, one around your neck because I want you as close to me as possible and I like being latched onto you. I like the feeling of being one with you, like you can protect me; because honestly, you can and you do.

You like what my body is doing, the way my hips buck up to make you go deeper, the way my nails dig into your bicep just a little bit, the way that my breath tickles your neck. You lift off of me and let out a breathy “fuck”, your hand is raised up to your mouth, tongue wrapped around the fingers that were just inside of me. You look me in my eyes while you incite pleasure in me, and you tell me that I’m beautiful. I believe you when you say it. I do, I really do. And I never thought I’d believe someone’s intentions for calling me that.

Your shorts come off, boxers along with them. I love how natural everything feels. I love the feeling of you on the inside of me, nothing between us. Sensitive skin on skin. Raw pleasure, you moving in and out so slowly, making me want you more. It’s the part I love the most. Knowing that I’m giving you pleasure like how you give me pleasure. I like how you move, how you aren’t afraid to let me know with your breaths that you like how I feel, and how you, in moments of bliss tell me that I’m beautiful. I know you mean it. I say it back, always, because it’s true.

Our bodies fit together perfectly, my face in your neck, the way that your hand rests on the bone of my hip, the curve of my waist. I wonder where you’ve been my whole life. Everything about you, the way that you sleep into the afternoon, the way that you feel connected to the moon, the way that you draw peoples attention without meaning to, and how you never seem to notice or believe that your eyes shine with the sunlight and your voice when you whisper dances across the waves of the lake we sat next to on that chilly night in September.

I think about all of that as I watch our bodies mold together for the first time in a week, and I wonder what goes through yours.

-celestialpersuasion

scattered thoughts i wrote in his bed

from early october, 2019

honestly, this is all i’ve ever really wanted and i feel like I’m simultaneously in a dreamworld, but also more present than i’ve been in a very long time. i’m thankful to him for being exactly who he is. i’m glad that i can sit and be me in the same space with him being himself. we talk about how crazy is it that we feel so comfortable around each other and this is one of those extended moments.

elio is me in the sense that we’re both constantly assessing situations to the point where sometimes it can be dangerous. but also it’s beautiful to see us when we really care and it’s because we put so much thought into the other person because we pay attention to them. it’s an almost unusual sense of affection because it isn’t always the most overt thing. it’s watching them as they drive with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on their knee.