IRIS AVENUE

​February 18th, 2026

In our little loft...

Our sanctuary, our sacred cocoon of shared devotion.

I like to imagine that I am sitting in your lap, caressing the back of your neck, running my fingers through your locs with your hand in my lap, your arm around my waist. 

I like to imagine we’re in our garden, watching a sunset with our limbs entangled. 

It’s quite cozy in our little loft. 

It smells faintly of freshly burned incense sticks. 

The humidifier is running, rose and ylang ylang wafts the space. 

Traces of you, and me, and us scattered throughout.

You and I coexist in it beautifully - like two toddlers engrossed in their respective tasks. 

We parallel play, LOL. 

We just get one another, without a word. 

Your moon is in Cancer, mine Taurus. 

My venus in Cancer, yours Virgo. 

We just click. You’re the button I loop around. 

You slide your hand around my waist, pull me closer, and we connect momentarily. Without a word, it’s understood that we are two peas in a pod. 

I can be vulnerable with you, shy with you. 

I rub my face against your face, and take in your warm, earthy smell. 

Your warm skin against mine. 

I trust that there is an us even when you retreat. 

You let me swing violently, without trying to quell the cyclone that is me. 

We go for long walks outside. 

You brew me hibiscus tea. 

We eat dinner together. 

I watch you work with anticipation - I want you to focus on me like that. 

You lean over every twenty minutes or so, and look at me. I pretend not to see you from the corner of my eye. 

But every twenty minutes or so, I’m looking over to make sure I catch you. 

And secretly hope you never stop. 

I fall asleep, my nose buried into your chest, taking in your scent I love so much. 

You wake up before me and water the plants.

You feed the cat and brew some coffee. 

I wake up, thinking of you. 

We kiss when we see one another. 

We make space for our feelings. 

We perform little acts of service for one another. 

Neither of us feels the need to verbalize it, our language is that of silent devotion. 

In our little loft, 

We just get each other, and that’s priceless. 

There, at the loft on Iris Avenue, two solitary creatures live with one another. 

We depart and reunite in our vestibule, 

But we never forget that it's built on our shared sensibilities.

Silent, albeit LOUD as can be. 

- vetiveroil