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Dear P,

I find myself drinking to numb what I’m unsuccessfully denying –
that I truly do want you in my life.
I know this means me as the man in your life.
A life you’ve created on your own and one that I’m learning,
as I’m growing, to cherish and honor as much as my own.
These stones I carry, heavy with the past of my misgivings,
become easy when sleeping I hold you tenderly.
With our foreheads touching – pressed in a loving
tête-à-tête that is telling of Shakespeare’s best musings.
All this happened so quickly in this head of mine
that rarely believes such possibility much less a real beginning.
So truly I see what might be – those things in your life
in close immediacy to mine.
If asked of this from a younger me,
I might not be so earnestly forthcoming.
The luxury of youth fleeting.
Your hand in mine a sign that the world is still steady.
A dot, pale and blue, that I never knew held intimacy.
This part of me that you now see.
Those moments of us yet to be
become dense with vulnerability;
but these insecurities fade when, as one with you,
I learn to love completely.