beneath the skin

your fingers explore my hand. your skin is direct and there. it feels good. it feels like you really see me with your hand.
i keep my eyes closed so i can feel everything. the care, the discovery, the accuracy. your head is pressed against mine. we talk sparsely. he is anxious to get going but your hand keeps with mine. you touch him lovingly and reassuringly now and again. but you are there with me and i can feel it. he knows it. he accepts it. he really wants you. he knows what he is bargaining for. your golden heart radiates warmth. i feel cozy and slow. in the kitchen we talk about that man that i was wishing for while cutting my birthday cake. and how my lesbian roommate said she had wished for a woman while i was cutting and then you said well maybe he will be gay and i turn around and look at you and say, but i already found the perfect gay man. we hug. instantly and it feels good. i remember your fingers on mine. our skin texture works perfectly together. you say with a sigh, sometimes i also wish i wasn´t gay.
he turns away, half way pretending to be offended, half way being hurt. i hurry to try and fix things but in a very very clumsy way. i would have your kids, anyway.
beneath the layers i know
that we know
it is love only.