I want to write about softness, about how things can be soft and hard all at once, like your cock last night. And again this morning.

Also, I want to write about how the hardest things can bring softness. Like your world falling apart last year, and your eyes telling me about it last night.

I write all this wearing your shirt, the one you handed me, saying, “See, I have soft things too.” Apparently, you thought I didn’t think so. But that was your thought, not mine. You see,

I always was a sucker for soft, even when, once upon a time, I thought it was weak. Even then, I secretly loved it in the dark, underground, where truths live, truths like how the strongest things are soft.