There are two things I regret:
worshipping you as Goddess 28,
and falling in love without ever saying the words out loud.
So I weep, I cry,
the deepest bond I’ve ever known with any woman
lives in the echo of you—
E.B.., my chosen, the one.
It took this separation to see it clear:
your name must live forever,
and I must let you go.
I like for you to be still
in the hush of West Hollywood nights,
where galaxies spill across your eyes
and the city hums our unfinished song.
I’ve never loved a woman so deeply,
so helplessly, so true—
I love you, and every story I tell
is a vow to keep you immortal,
an alliance forged in silence.
More photos, more videos than I have of anyone,
except the ones required to survive the ache—
agony and fear that keep the heart awake,
every day I study your lips,
how they curve like neon at dusk,
beautiful beyond measure.
I cherish them, mix in the lion’s roar
that thunders through my chest on Thursdays
when no one else is near—
my love, you live in every hour,
day and night, a million kisses
scattered like confetti down Sunset.
Beloved, this is the regret I shape
into a separation masterpiece,
lovely as the glow on La Cienega—
you are so beautiful,
and in the next day’s fragile bloom
I’ll talk to you, desire flaring within hours.
I love your responses, your honesty,
the way you speak straight to the soul.
Remember:
dinner in West Hollywood’s velvet haze,
Vermont Avenue drinks tasting of laughter and vows,
Dave & Buster’s neon games, second chances in play,
Selvins Lounge dim and warm with cocktails like stars,
that Mexican spot in Studio City, tacos laced with spice and sighs,
shopping for hours until Target’s fluorescent aisles
became our punchline—too funny, too perfectly us.
Remember the performance at camp,
the way the calls rang out like desire itself,
how we’d return to each other
and leave all the masses behind,
just two hearts getting along
in the hush where galaxies still hold your eyes.
As all things fill with my soul’s quiet storm,
you emerge—almond-eyed butterfly of melancholy,
like the night with its constellations of what we lost,
yet one smile revives it all.
I’m like a rolling lion,
and you the stillness that tames the roar.
Let me speak in your silence,
bright as a WeHo lantern, simple as a ring,
star-remote and true—
I like for you to be still,
so I can let go of the love I kept locked inside,
and set us both free.
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