(no subject)
It comes and goes in waves:
dreams of Avignon in black and white, the
colours of your morning through the fog, and my whole life
reaching up to kiss you. I remember
the weight of your love, the heaviness of the noises
you make while you're asleep and how
and how
you moved against me and all the words
mean nothing. I remember the backseat of a
little black car in a
parking lot surrounded by ocean, and your hands slipping
underneath my shirt. I don't own myself, I owe myself
to you,
to the way you kissed me before I had a name for such things,
to our breaths suspended in the cold, the dialogue
of our romance. Now
you give me nothing, you give me
all the silence in the world, but I can't
unlearn the way I loved you.
I can't unlearn the things we learned from each other.
(work in progress. I'm storing it here.)
dreams of Avignon in black and white, the
colours of your morning through the fog, and my whole life
reaching up to kiss you. I remember
the weight of your love, the heaviness of the noises
you make while you're asleep and how
and how
you moved against me and all the words
mean nothing. I remember the backseat of a
little black car in a
parking lot surrounded by ocean, and your hands slipping
underneath my shirt. I don't own myself, I owe myself
to you,
to the way you kissed me before I had a name for such things,
to our breaths suspended in the cold, the dialogue
of our romance. Now
you give me nothing, you give me
all the silence in the world, but I can't
unlearn the way I loved you.
I can't unlearn the things we learned from each other.
(work in progress. I'm storing it here.)