i was wearing Your t-shirt, standing out on the deck twirling the hose around, trying to water our potted plants. my thoughts were wandering, standing on my toes, my bare feet warm on the boards. i noticed You from the corner of my eye, and looked over. You stood with your forearm high on the door frame, leaning, Your eyes filled with promise, as we spoke without words through the glass:
I see you. your little hands doing your chores. The curve of your waist in My shirt. your long legs, your dainty ankles. I see you. I know you, every inch, every secret, hidden place. The neighbors might see you standing there, twirling your hair between your fingers, digging your toe into the decking. But they don’t really see you, not like Me. I know you. I own you. You are mine.
The depth of Your love in that look, it was so intense i felt shy and looked away. When i looked back You were gone. And i felt bereft, even though i knew You were just in the kitchen, doing something else. Those moments are proof, proof of my need for You, proof of how You adore me, proof of the value of the life we have built. i turned off the hose, and went back inside. We kept on with our tasks for the day, and met again that night… the passion, the connection, the promise of our earlier moment finally coming to fruition. Our relationship might be kinky, it might not be what others consider normal, or even healthy. But i wouldn’t change it for the world.