Dry Writing By Mo Mahon

 The morning of January 26th 2026

My blinds encase shadows and light,

streaks cast across the room.

I hear his shallow breath and worry.

Jolts of anxiety cross my face

as I feel the sweat, the shivering.

I think about you leaving-

Like something unexpected and ill taking over.

It is a scary thought

It causes a different kind of pain in my heart.

That same depth means I truly would, and could, do anything for this loving man.

My knees feel heavy,

and I reject sleep,

even with him closely in my arms.

I’m aware of my bones tensing.

There are trickles of water hitting my window,

Or maybe it’s paper in the wind,

Whispering secrets I have not yet met.

I feel such sorrow suddenly-

Must be the delusion of night

encasing my inner world.

For some reason,

I sense fear here too.

Fear of the unfamiliar,

For I have delved into so much newness.

I know I must invest in my blessings.

However, if I did not feel fear,

I could not go farther.

There is also so much happiness in each day

That the betrayal of others doesn’t define all,

And there is always something to feel gratitude toward,

even in low vibrations.

I want to embody the sea turtle

And thy sea otter.

I want to swim on my back,

holding the hand of another.

I want that to be him-

Getting off on stability.

My eyes suddenly feel tired as I hear him snoring, and singing within.

Goodnight, my love.