“ I wanted to take your hand into mine and kiss it.I never dared. ”
You let me set the water in the shower, and followed me into the booth to stand there with me under the warm spray. You kept your head down, not looking me in the eyes—though if you were shy, I couldn’t tell. You had no reason to be. You know what you look like.I know you don’t remember what we did.I want to tell you.
~ Julio Alexi Genao
They’d come for you, and this time they’d come with we
don’t tell me not to drink. not to smoke. not to grieve. if i speak of these things it’s because i have to— but i am not speaking to you.
But it turns out Joy is a house built from the same bricks as Sorrow. Pleasure is a poem, and it uses the same words as Pain.
