Feelings I Cannot Understand...

I could spend all day dreaming about his biceps, the way he seems so grounded and comfortable in the solitude of his own skin, how he might taste, and what it is that he really craves.

What would he confess if it felt safe enough? And what might he desire if freedom to do so were granted from within? What is he looking for, really, when he surveys the bar in search of a woman to go home with?

I can't stop wondering about his psychic aches and pains, and how well he knows his own pain...? I wish to feel what he does, to understand at that depth, and offer that up to him, and for him, so that he might receive something, though I know not what.

I dream about his biceps and tears fall and I believe that I would die if it would save him.