Touching Brandi

Thank you for your unflagging support in all I do, all that labours for me to be whom I want. 

Thank you for letting me feast on your food and the sight of your swinging pony tail while you sing and bustle with that prim, impossibly sweet smile while making it.

Thank you for the small noises of morning grumble that you make when your face is slack and gently pouting, angelic, Shiele's own dream. Thank you for privileging me with your recumbent body, when asleep all tucked and tuckered, in the nude, like a fresh babe; awake, generous and sensual and yielding in that dance at which you excel, thrusting me into a wanted torpor, a heady depletion that is our point.  

Thank you for touching me every waking moment, beneath the laughter or a minute's silence near a lake, by the waves you seem to summon, beneath everything, this feeling of love from you radiating towards me in overlapping, concentric circles, embracing me at every turn and thought. 

Thank you for getting me, for making my every cell laugh, and laughing with me where we both most live, where neither culture nor genes can touch us, where the plenitude of divinity, of care and of effortless compassion, always does. 

You are the happiest days of me. The soundest, the surest. 

You are mine and mine is all the glory.