Something not anchored in love
drifted far beyond our reach,
exempt from our careful touch,
I’ll be able to understand you one day.
I’m still here in this dark room,
broken by such little things,
a stray strand of auburn hair,
the most brief hint of perfume.
Forever here on a late November evening
when you suddenly opened up to me
and became a lock at the same time,
bare warm thighs straddling over me,
hands cupping my face as if
you gently held an entire world when
I was so new and vulnerable beneath you.
You may remember the exact way
I changed shape deep inside of you,
speaking with bodies ravenously mingling
instead of with our temporary words.
I never thought I’d be separated from your flesh.
But something not anchored in love
drifted far beyond our knowing fingertips,
exempt from our careful touch,
I’ll be able to understand you one day.
I’m still here in this bed alone,
broken by such little things,
a shadow too much like the indentation
of your beautiful delicate body in the sheets,
the most brief trace of your once constant warmth.
Forever here on a late November evening
when you suddenly opened up to me,
hand gently guiding me deep inside
the most fiery possessive haven,
hands cupping my face as if
you held an entire world when
I was so new and vulnerable beneath you.
When I wanted to tell you everything.
Just like how you said it all in our rush,
right before proximity would break us
and your eyes ignited to flash
messages in the heated dark.
You may remember the exact way
I would helplessly spill,
how I would hold you after,
your hand clutching mine
like a lifeline of flesh and bone,
that’s when I told you everything,
whether I knew it or not.
And even though I may never understand you,
I still live inside a place where I never thought
I’d be separated from your flesh.
