Unravel Me

Don’t undress me.
Unravel me.

With breath.
With weight.
With the kind of stillness
that makes my knees forget the floor.

Touch me
like a man who’s been here
for lifetimes —
who knows every place
I never let them find.

Don’t reach for my body.
Enter me
where I’m already open.

Where I ache with knowing.
Where I pulse with memory.
Where I’ve waited
without waiting
for you.

Claim me
not with pressure —
but with presence.

Not with noise —
but with that holy quiet
that only lives
between our ribs
when your chest
covers mine.