not home (uncut)

i don't want to go home. not tonight.
i want to stay in this space
where nothing's fucked up yet
where nothing's destroyed
where there's only the dark and the possiblity and
wet expectation of your lips brushing me.
i don't want to go home. not in the morning.
i want to fall into the rising sun
lit behind your eyes for hours
after day has broken and rushed on
til we're suprised to see the moon
as it all passed in an instant.
i don't want to go home. not tomorrow.
i want to close the doors and all the windows on the world
and walk laughingly with you
thru crowded empty streets
tracing the changing tide
and chasing the wind across dirt paths to waterfalls.
i don't want to go home. not without you.
not without the sweetness of your words
and the savageness of your sex
not without the dizzy feeling of your touch
or was it too much wine,
regardless my cheeks are flushed, skin alight.
i don't want to go home. not yet.
i want to slip silk smooth between your thoughts
between your arms
i want to learn your emotions by the look in your eyes
i want to learn your topography by touch and taste
and still be constantly suprised by you.
i don't want to go home. not because i should.
i can't settle for what's expected of my demographic
becoming the median thirty-something
kids on the way
life out of the way
nothing in the way of adventure or risk or unprecedented passion.
i don't want to go home. and i don't want to be lost.
i don't need the comfort of overstuffed couches and goose down
i don't need an overpaid 9 to 5 and 401K
but i do need the security provided by your hands
finding me in the night and pulling me closer
into you and your world
until i am part of your continuity and constancy.
i don't want to go home. but i want to know i have one.
i want to feel the pull of expectation
firmly on my hips
i want to feel the pull of anticipation
just to be in your eyes
and the light in them when you see me.
i don't want to go home. and i don't want you to either.