whether dancing, or giving,
or sex.
the intimate expressions of
intention
and the hope of surrender
(or something like it).
i don’t trust anyone that
tries that hard –
there’s something somehow
desperate
and self-serving about
extravagance.
better still to treat things
as if they are delicate,
as if they are rare and
beautiful and fragile,
like Fabergé eggs.
may these words be a gift to
you,
from one royal to another
royal;
let me be humble and you
gracious.
let there be peace in the
city
as you open them up;
let there be surprises
that bring a smile to your
lips.
it can be a small smile –
perhaps even a sly smile.
we know what secrets we
share.
we know these words
are larger on the inside,
there
is always room for more.
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