nothing feels
as rich, as expensive,
as being held by hands
laced in respect,
strong hands that can be
soft and slow against your skin
like flowers, like curiosity…
and eyes that mean what they say
when they say all those things
that eyes say… like,
it’s safe here. and there’s truth here.
and there’s depth in here.
and full. attention.
that undeniable, can’t not. must have.
ache for you, ache for this…
nothing. but. this. kind of aching in you
reaching for an aching me…

those are the priceless things,
give me your priceless things.

– butterflies rising