What I Imagine It Might Be
I have never known his weight
but I imagine it gentle
not like a burden
but like rain after a long dry season
Heavy enough to feel
light enough to welcome
I imagine breath shared
like secrets in the dark
close enough to fog glass
to make me forget what fear used to taste like
His fingers tracing the map
of a body I’m still learning to love
Mapping out parts I cover
not because I’m ashamed
but because no one ever asked to see with reverence
Slow
like prayer
each syllable intentional
each touch deserving of silence and soft gasps
There’s no rush here
Only rhythm
like music we make
without a single sound
Like water meeting water
Like breath meeting breath
I imagine the quiet that follows
not the kind that feels cold
but the kind that feels safe
Stillness
Arms around me not claiming me
but choosing me again
even after the ache has passed
I imagine being seen
not just watched
Held not owned
I imagine the kind of gaze that doesn’t flinch at my stretch marks
doesn’t reduce my body to an offering
but treats it like it’s holy
And I wonder
what does it mean
to want something so much
you fear it might hurt
to finally receive it
What if I freeze
What if I can’t speak
What if my body says yes
but my mind still doubts
Will he listen to what I do not say
Sometimes even in fantasy
I rehearse the word “no”
just to make sure I still remember how to say it
I whisper it into the dark as if to remind myself that I am allowed to take it all back if my heart skips wrong
Still
I imagine his voice
not deep for performance
but deep because it has learned
how to be quiet with care
Calling my name like it’s a verse he doesn’t want to forget
Like I’m not a body to conquer but a person to stay for
I do not know the act
But I know the longing
The ache behind closed eyes
The hush between what I desire and what I dare
I know the pages I would write
if desire had a tongue
and I wasn’t afraid of being misheard
And maybe that’s enough for now
To imagine
To ache
To hope that one day touch will not come with tension
and pleasure will not arrive dressed as permission
That one day
it won’t feel like fantasy
but something softer
arrival
A homecoming
A prayer answered
with tenderness