I hear echoes of a silence that speaks only of you

“But the erotic look is not simply the prelude to intercourse: in some texts, it is intercourse. As Kleinias explains to Kleitophon, viewing and being viewed by one’s beloved is better than sex: “This pleasure is greater than that of consummation for the eyes receive each others’ reflections, and they form there from small images as in mirrors. Such outpouring of beauty flowing down through them into the soul is a kind of copulation at a distance. This is not far removed from the intercourse of bodies.” […] The “intercourse of bodies” of viewing suspends the penetration grid, allowing both parties simultaneously to penetrate and be penetrated.”

I was touching him. I was going to touch him. I had touched him. Yes, I felt everything. Insensate with longing, I felt it all at once. It wasn’t enough. I felt an endless hunger from the corners of my soul. I set alight the evening with my immolation. I left trails of blood behind. I had kissed him — ​almost —​ and I was half out of my mind. I was stripped bare. Cleaved in half. Spilling my guts out onto the street. I felt forced inside out.

AT YOUR AGE, I WORE A DARKNESS