he identifies as a boy today.
i love him all the same, as he loves me.
he touches me in my heart, like how snow burns it's cold flames into the skin of your palms if you hold on for too long.
i feel his endless river of warmth pressed to mine, not unlike the glow of a faraway star as it envelopes the flesh of rose petals. nurturing, caring.
he makes me feel at ease, i grant him peace of mind.
we are two birds of song, wanderers lost in the sky. no flock to turn to.
but we have each other to sing to, to fly with.
a lover of softness, the caress of feathers to calm the storm inside.
the colours are soft, kind.
the brushes in my mind dabble, drifting across the canvas of time. they paint an angel, almost unnoticed in the chaos of the past.
but for now, you are my angel.
my time is only for you.
YOU ARE READING
the song we used to sing
Short Storythey think of the world as a picture. pretty and whole. it has flaws, and sometimes the mistakes fit in the whole scheme of things. but an error like them has to be painted over. the story of a pansexual boy and his genderfluid partner.
