Brian was with me
in his home tonight.
Brian –
he carried me…
Brian –
he married me…
Brian was buried
in my arms tonight.
In these dreams he was older
than he ever was…
And his eyes shown then
with his long last love…
He held me in his arms because
his arms were a promise…
His tears were so honest…
His sorrow was love
in the presence of pain.
His fingers undressed me…
His skin pressed against me…
Tomorrow would come
so we lived unrestrained.
His passion, once gone…
and for ever so long…
Unspooled
in the starkness
that above us was aching.
His fingers, they whispered…
His kisses, they blistered…
Then cooled
in the darkness
that our love was making.
The kisses between us
were innocent lust:
expressions of love
in the absence of fear.
For our time is precious
when doubt is infectious:
We must love our loved ones
while we have them here.
Written by Jason Wright
January 9, 2000*
For Brian,
Who visited me in dreams
to love and be loved.
* This version was edited on July 24, 2026, which would have been Brian’s 50th birthday.
