My taste for tension matured
quietly
in the safety of the night
we made out of day
and the shadows that became.
It wasn’t the relief I craved,
nor the intensity.
It was witnessing his restraint.
Tension lives in that place.
My taste for tension matured
quietly
in the safety of the night
we made out of day
and the shadows that became.
It wasn’t the relief I craved,
nor the intensity.
It was witnessing his restraint.
Tension lives in that place.