WE SPEAK IN CODE

That’s how we’ve always done it. When you use your tongue you get found out. We didn’t want that to happen. Get found out. We are out.

Like glitter. Like sparkles and starry nights. Like silence carved with words. They make pictures in his eyes. When I look. Twenty-five walking over a bridge and through a canal to find a patch of grass for laying then staring. Up at the sky a cloud that looks like a Llama. That’s what the pictures look like.

He feels like smiles. And old age. He glows sometimes. But he’s not at all oily. I think it’s a Halo. But not a Christmas Angel Halo. More like a Beyoncé one.

He’s sweet like cotton. Swift like Shinkansen. We put our cheeks against each other’s once. With his palm on the top of mine. To see what it would feel like — if we could move our necks in sync. Not like the boy band, but more like a brontosaurus with two heads. I liked it.

He built me a home in his mind. With intentions and dreams. Let me decorate it. Because we understood the code. I made sure the pillows were silk and always fresh with lavender spray.

Every kiss is the first. That part never changes. Because our lips are like jigsaw puzzles. And we are never precious about saving the pictures. They live there when they do. We never know how long someone will be there.

His heart rests in mine. That’s how we’ve made it. He needs to rest. He forgets sometimes. My heart has space for someone like him. The code told Us so.

He walks in the door. I am roasting a chicken. Or a duck. We put a puzzle together. He rests his hand on the small of my back. He says it reminds him of my heart. Which he likes to pull in close because he says it feels like silk lavender pillows. I wrap my neck around his. He wraps his around mine. To the sound of children and laughter until we look like a brontosaurus with two heads looking for leaves.

This is the way we like it. Especially when the world outside is chilly. Gray. Sweater weather.

Our code. Our Sun. Our Moon. Our Stars.