You're a gentle, quiet grace
moving through days with a timid air
lighting like a butterfly on conversations
of conversions
of concessions.
But nights I like best
when we're alone and
you smile freely,
laugh unreservedly,
remove the censors that burden your blooming
inhibit your illicitness
(and trust me, you're addictive;
to drink your knowledge
and take hits of your humor).
And you say that you're leaving
and I'll miss your melange
of smiles and quips and references
mannerisms and nuances
and your overall presence.
But you should know that I
quite simply refuse
to live without you...
so be prepared for letters
of much more of the quirky nonsense,
the politics and poetry,
the things I can only share
with you.
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