I like that my voice is stilled, 
like the sound of blood salt in my ears,
and you say nothing, but mean everything
with every twist of your gaze.

I like that you don’t make me beg. 
It is as though you weren’t with me,
and then altogether.

I like that we know what we want,
and it is this: that we are happy
without labor, without cost.
My only, you are my fascination
and my freedom.

I like that you don’t make me beg,
because it is as if I don’t have to know
what to say, 
what to do, 
or how to please you.

I see you kiss me as you go.
I wake hours later in the afternoons,
have I hurt you,
have I turned you.

Then I reach for you, and you kiss me
through the receiver,
glancing violet valley butterfly,
I love you.