(no subject)
when i met you
it was autumn;
the trees
opened up their tired arms
& showered us
with leaves,
the pavement felt lighter
beneath our feet
& your words
floated up
in lazy afternoon sun;
i couldn't help
but chase them.
the first time we kissed
was bland
& awkward
but the second time,
the second time
was like train tracks,
high speed iron
through tennessee hills;
you were the engine
that powered
the
senseless beating
of my senseless heart;
sending blood
to my extremities
so i could reach out
& touch you.
before long
we began to settle,
filling rooms with furniture
as the snow tucked us in
like tufts
of grass
coming up through sidewalks;
new years eve was raucous
& damp with cold
as we scrambled home
with frozen feet,
you grabbed the beer
while i ran the bath
& we
celebrated our poverty
like destitutes
in eighteenth century
alleyways.
i felt a little warmer
that night,
the blood was rushing
to my cheeks.
after that it was easy,
i began to know you
like staring in
bathroom mirrors,
knew your skin
like a treasure map
to that X
between your legs.
we spoke a similar language;
our words kicked
& flowed
like midnight
acquiesence.
when winter cleared
& spring had passed
we drove north
for three balmy months
in rolling white mountains.
we would sit out;
back porch,
trying our best
to rival the stars,
drink dandelion wine
in a truant july
& swim in every lake
& river
we could find.
your hair was like water lillies
& i held it soaking wet
in my clammy hands;
my heart grew quiet
& ran away
like the sun behind those hills;
i felt safe.
i felt sound.
we moved back to the city
in september
& there were apartments
& more furniture;
more things for us
to surround ourselves with
in the absence
of open space.
i loved you even more then
but something
was broken.
we were like wounded soldiers;
dragging shellshag limbs
across our own personal
battlefield,
living like ghosts
in those skeleton rooms
for one year,
two hundred & thirteen days;
we lit up the house with
arguments
like party lights
& now,
you remind me
of breaking knuckles
punching plaster dry wall.
i couldn't blame you
for crawling away
into cigarette smoke
back rooms
& when i left you
it was spring,
the trees were shouting
green
at our bedroom window
& i
was waking up alone.
the color had been drained
from the place
& i moved about
like a drunk
trying to find car keys.
when i left you
it was spring
& i never felt so hopeless
about the summer,
never felt
more like ignoring the weather,
the door bell,
that sinking feeling
in my gut.
sometimes leaving
is all i know,
i just wish
i could go back
to shining like stars,
rolling like
train tracks,
loving like
it was all we had
& swimming
in those bodies
of water,
lying on that sand,
your hair
in my hand.
it was autumn;
the trees
opened up their tired arms
& showered us
with leaves,
the pavement felt lighter
beneath our feet
& your words
floated up
in lazy afternoon sun;
i couldn't help
but chase them.
the first time we kissed
was bland
& awkward
but the second time,
the second time
was like train tracks,
high speed iron
through tennessee hills;
you were the engine
that powered
the
senseless beating
of my senseless heart;
sending blood
to my extremities
so i could reach out
& touch you.
before long
we began to settle,
filling rooms with furniture
as the snow tucked us in
like tufts
of grass
coming up through sidewalks;
new years eve was raucous
& damp with cold
as we scrambled home
with frozen feet,
you grabbed the beer
while i ran the bath
& we
celebrated our poverty
like destitutes
in eighteenth century
alleyways.
i felt a little warmer
that night,
the blood was rushing
to my cheeks.
after that it was easy,
i began to know you
like staring in
bathroom mirrors,
knew your skin
like a treasure map
to that X
between your legs.
we spoke a similar language;
our words kicked
& flowed
like midnight
acquiesence.
when winter cleared
& spring had passed
we drove north
for three balmy months
in rolling white mountains.
we would sit out;
back porch,
trying our best
to rival the stars,
drink dandelion wine
in a truant july
& swim in every lake
& river
we could find.
your hair was like water lillies
& i held it soaking wet
in my clammy hands;
my heart grew quiet
& ran away
like the sun behind those hills;
i felt safe.
i felt sound.
we moved back to the city
in september
& there were apartments
& more furniture;
more things for us
to surround ourselves with
in the absence
of open space.
i loved you even more then
but something
was broken.
we were like wounded soldiers;
dragging shellshag limbs
across our own personal
battlefield,
living like ghosts
in those skeleton rooms
for one year,
two hundred & thirteen days;
we lit up the house with
arguments
like party lights
& now,
you remind me
of breaking knuckles
punching plaster dry wall.
i couldn't blame you
for crawling away
into cigarette smoke
back rooms
& when i left you
it was spring,
the trees were shouting
green
at our bedroom window
& i
was waking up alone.
the color had been drained
from the place
& i moved about
like a drunk
trying to find car keys.
when i left you
it was spring
& i never felt so hopeless
about the summer,
never felt
more like ignoring the weather,
the door bell,
that sinking feeling
in my gut.
sometimes leaving
is all i know,
i just wish
i could go back
to shining like stars,
rolling like
train tracks,
loving like
it was all we had
& swimming
in those bodies
of water,
lying on that sand,
your hair
in my hand.