The cold blue glow of the television flickering

This is a silent truth, 
a peculiar blend of pain and beauty, 
stirring echoes of forgotten desires. 
My love for him, a universe, 
stretching far beyond the mundane, 
defying the weight of judgment, 
soaring above it all. 
Not everyone can grasp this love, 
though many have whispered his uniqueness,  none like I have.
 
"You are the most imperfect perfection," 
I tossed those words like confetti, 
watching sparks ignite in his gaze. 
Years later, as he navigated the world, 
art, society, 
he still felt the warmth of my touch, 
a gentle caress of body and soul, 
a reverent exploration of his heart. 

There’s a rare light within him, 
a beauty that sets him apart, 
and every inch of him strummed my heartstrings. 
"Picture me tracing the curve of your nose," 
I murmured, teasing and thrilling him, 
"softly kissing each freckle, 
each thin line around your eyes, 
then letting my lips wander along your jaw, 
savoring every moment, 
until you tremble from this sweet intensity..." 
He, who had grown weary of the ordinary, 
was captivated by the tender audacity of these moments, 
craving more, always more. 
Who was I to deny us this ecstasy?
 
"I’ve loved you for a decade," I sighed, 
aware that countless years of devotion lay ahead, 
for no one could ever replace him in my heart.
I knew his pulse quickened 
when I whispered my desire to rest my head on his chest, 
to listen to his restless heart, 
somewhere in a forgotten European hotel, 
on a dark January night, 
the cold blue glow of the television flickering, 
wrapped in his embrace.

[2025]