Spontaneity
He moves his fist away then back again, like a swing, pulling just enough to feel that he's pulling, watching the cloth follow his wrist away then back again.
It's beautiful, the expanse of shoulder and chest that he's trapped between covered and bare, like the moon's light collected in the melanin and became living the day he was born.
He remembers that he knows that date, but lets it succumb to gravity; he can't think when his head's pressed upon the mattress and the blankets smell like soap.
He feels the cloth of his pyjama pants on his legs, splayed and bent at the knee, dangling off the bed's end where he's standing, leaning against the cushioned surface just enough for the blood to pool in his knees, so he feels he's leaning.
It's beautiful, the way that sometimes his eyes are closed in the dark, naked in the night while their transparent apparel rests somewhere they'll find when the sun comes up.
Somewhere where it always rests when the lights are off and the sheets breathing idle passion across ravenous skin.
Their fingers are touching at his folded knee and they're both so empty that their blood flow brushes through and bumps the foreign circulation.
It's beautiful, how two thinkers can feel, without trepidations or calculations or shame, and how nothing becomes pulses and breaths and hunger and thirst. And nerves stay as something.
His fist blooms and rains down the freed sky light until it slides away unnoticed to wherever the swing's broken pieces faded.
He wakes his eyelids partially and visions connect through night-blindness; his expression shrugs an indecisive welcoming erring on a plea.
The mattress gasps as the pools at the back of his knees release while they smile into smile at it's surprise to double weight, though it must have known he would descend; the moon must sink after rising.
And what better place than an island to hold the mother of the stars?
It's beautiful, the most beautiful moment in his years, the day he signed up for Chinese I in university so today he could understand a whispered,
"Wo ai ni."