One more day with you to cover your chest and back with soap. one more day to see the pupils of your eyes dilated, despite the morning sun pouring in the bedroom window, because you have that much desire for me.

I need more time to lubricate you with my mouth. I want to lick your ears, your neck, your glands, and to suck each and every finger. I want to button and unbutton all the buttons on all your shirts. I want to soothe you, help you relax, and make you work.

You, Craig, Are the eternal masculine. You are the end of self-abuse. I want you to be my confidante, my final audience, the one here when I undress.

But tonight I feel a profound sense of loss. I have no use for the stars right now. Nor the sun. Nor the moon. There is no desert. There is no ocean. There is nothing good.

This too shall pass.