Enoughness

We are leaning into each other.

Brains, and bodies, and knees,

We are fusing —

Our respective atoms breathless

And space-less, tired of repelling.

You’re telling me that everything I find admirable in you,

I am more so.

You’re telling me I make you feel like

A version of yourself you were supposed to be in the first place.

We are a peach perfectly pitted,

So that the empty centers of our flesh

Line up just so when we touch,

A cavern to hold all of the secrets

You told me not to tell anyone else —

We know I won’t.

I am telling you I forgive you,

Pre-emptive and genuine.

You are asking what you ever did to deserve me,

And this time you are not saying you are not enough,

Because your living room is dense as the obsidian

You were so excited I’d found nestled into Michigan sand —

We have no room for enoughness.

We are a black vacuum, compacted and impacted

By the way you know exactly what my eyes are saying —

They are saying

I want to be able to conjure your face

Particle by particle,

Wrinkle, yellow, five a.m. shadow,

And I’ll stare as long as it takes.

I am falling asleep to the tides of your chest and only one thing has changed,

Minute and massive as the center of a black hole:

Tomorrow morning,

Craving a large Dunkin Donuts coffee —

Cream and liquid sugar — 

You will still admit to feeling this way.