I miss you. From the rumble inside my gut I miss you. From the wince and gasping ache for your heat, I miss you. From between my tendons, from the twitch of my muscle, from the creak of my aging bones, I miss you. From the soft dark of my hot heart, the steady rise…
Tag: Body
Quarantine
Protect the softest parts of you. The parts that look like hide but are as tender as kitten paws not yet touched the earth. Protect all the tired people in you. The ones who sigh, unable to bear another day. Who look too eagerly toward the ends of things. For whom, to be unseen and unremembered…
When you leave
Sometimes you have to go. You don’t leave, but you do go. I had often thought about it but I didn’t know a person could really do that. You can. You do. And as much as recognising the difference is a comfort to me, it still means an absence. It still means you’re not here….
A letter for old love
The sum of my years has been spent knowing your body and learning the puzzle of how we fit and connect into each other. The plane of your flank flush with my arm. My face flat against your belly like a memory foam pillow. The sweep of your back meeting the convex of my front. My nose settling into the…
Rainbows on skin
I did not know that the body created rainbows. Or that only two things could make it happen. Love and anger. The clutch and hold of a lover who squeezes the very breath from you. When you are crushed and pressed like a lily between paper sheets. By arms of tender steel. Hit and kissed, pulled…
part-broken, part-whole 