GreenLadyMonster

He told me he sleeps in a t-shirt – and only a t-shirt. The image won’t leave my head; this body, so familiar to me, yet barricaded by layers of fabric – I have never seen the joints of his elbows, the slope of his spine, the terrain of his stomach – but I have felt their presence through wool and cotton, known their warmth in brief moments of contact. And there’s a strange intrigue to modesty, knowing his psychology but not his physique. I have found strength in his words and wisdom in his hands; I have plunged these depths past fondness and into familiarity and found, here, in the dark of his ocean, that I c