I call you my co-mate.
I celebrate our love.
I shout to the world my desire...to care for you, to comfort you, to tickle you, to nurture you. To rub you, to hump you, to kiss you, to hug you.
You live in the center of my spirit...but you are not the center of my universe.
I celebrate the lovers you have known. You are their gift to me. They will always be welcome in my heart and home.
I celebrate your lovers to come. They will make you happier, wiser, and more beloved in the world (or at the very least, more popular).
If there are other co-mates in your past, present, or future, i will shower them with gratitude. Hopefully i'll love them too (but one can't be greedy about such things).
My possessions belong to you. But this is as it ever was, as my possessions belong to the world.
If we are co-mates for a lifetime or a day, we will be blessed beyond measure.
I call you my love.
1 comment:
Stanley and I are together 24 years this August and I long ago decided I did not want to participate in the hairy legal bullshit of the straight world. The rights we want involve the erradication of bigotry and prejudice both of which lovely traits underly restrictions and fears and have firm footing in the wonderful religions of the world not one of which is worth more than a fart in a gale. I'm afraid this is evolutionary and therefore will not be realized in my lifetime unless I'm a very old (or new) glacier.
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