psst. come here.

It’s the peek, I think, that’s the thing.

Dropping hints at more.

I’ll pick them up.

I want.


It keeps me awake.

I want to whisper it, in the dark, while the world sleeps

Just us. Sharing. More than planned.

The perfect amount.

I want to whisper it, in your ear, as goose bumps lay claim and you realize the purr came from you.

But I’m okay with the peek.

For now.

I want it to build.

Cold water. Hot day.

I want the need to grow.

I want to be consumed before consuming.

I want…

Black lace.

At some point, because you’ve seen it all before, people think you should grow out of the effect peeks can have.

God, I hope not.

I’m not everyone else.

You know.

Or will figure it out.

Rules don’t really apply to me. Now.

Or ever.

I know which buttons to push, but will never share.

I know where the exits are in the Friend Zone.

But we shouldn’t…

Fuck, yes we should.

We can.



God, don’t lump me in with guys who, on their very best day, can’t measure up to me on my worst.

Don’t chalk up to swagger or bluster, that which has been earned.

And will continue to be.

Know what you know.

Ignore the noise. From outside. From inside.

Ignore the noise.

See what you see.

Feel what you feel.

Great art heeds not constraints.

Great science colours outside the lines.

From the start.

Anticipate the zigs, marvel in the zags.

See what I see.

Feel what I feel.

Know what I know.

I’ve read your rule book.

Then I used its pages to start a fire.

Come burn with me.





photo credit: TempusVolat via photopin cc

One thought on “psst. come here.

  1. Hi Peter,

    Thanks for using my picture – Wonderful words… you have perfectly captured what i was trying to convey with the image… sometimes what’s left to the imagination can be far more emotive than whats not…

    Kind Regards,

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