Human sexuality is a desert island washing up on the shore of another desert island.
Fine if that’s what you’re into.
But.
What I like is standing completely still, and being pecked apart by anxious birds.
What I like is invisibly catching the air around you.
What I like is somersaulting when you sneeze, and riding your laugh like a mechanical bull.
What I like is you leaning on a balcony on New Years Eve, stretching and yawning and breathing me in.
I swear to God, there’s a way you look at me sometimes
that’ll make me swear in front of God.
I am roasted and glazed for you, hurled into the sick of the night.
I am a Civil War steamboat for you, showing its ankles above the water.
I am the world’s smallest violin for you, playing unironically.
I am a trapdoor in a graveyard for you.
I am Blu-Tak and lilacs for you.
I am the 400s of the Dewey Decimal System for you.
I am a whole new way of thinking about arson for you.
I am here in the lip of the pale of the dawn for you.
I am oil in a puddle for you.
And you are a thunk of ice
melting new shapes into my alphabet.
ada connor 