After The Swim
I wrote this yesterday.
August 10th, 2008 - After The Swim
When you wake up after a night like this last one, it feels just like a hangover. Hair, which just hours before was fat with passion, just like your lips, is a deflated tangle. It still smells like him when you lift it and sniff at it. You've broken out around your mouth where his face rubbed you sweet, a testament and proof of who you were with early that morning. The rosy glow that clings to your skin and makes you a goddess for a portion of time still lingers.
There is also the overwhelming feeling of being full. The whole of you is stuffed and full to the brim, full of waves between joy and sorrow, bits that catch the midway colors, reside in the gray, the plum, the red.
Last night the great love of my life sat with me again.
He wrapped himself to me beside a pond in the dark, and he was my friend.
Below where our toes dangled, there was a mother duck and her small ones quietly catching thier dinner. What I tried to swallow back the whole night loosened itself like a ribbon and he rocked my tears away.
That family in the water got to watch these months slide out of us, from eyes, noses, ears, knees, until we were teenagers again, and desprete for each others core.
They moved in the water as I leaned into this old goodness, trusted it, didn't measure it, didnt analyze it.
Then they watched as the only love I know took me at the mouth, restoring me.
In his bed, under the green glow, we swam.
Coiled, as we slept, I felt that he loved me.
August 10th, 2008 - After The Swim
When you wake up after a night like this last one, it feels just like a hangover. Hair, which just hours before was fat with passion, just like your lips, is a deflated tangle. It still smells like him when you lift it and sniff at it. You've broken out around your mouth where his face rubbed you sweet, a testament and proof of who you were with early that morning. The rosy glow that clings to your skin and makes you a goddess for a portion of time still lingers.
There is also the overwhelming feeling of being full. The whole of you is stuffed and full to the brim, full of waves between joy and sorrow, bits that catch the midway colors, reside in the gray, the plum, the red.
Last night the great love of my life sat with me again.
He wrapped himself to me beside a pond in the dark, and he was my friend.
Below where our toes dangled, there was a mother duck and her small ones quietly catching thier dinner. What I tried to swallow back the whole night loosened itself like a ribbon and he rocked my tears away.
That family in the water got to watch these months slide out of us, from eyes, noses, ears, knees, until we were teenagers again, and desprete for each others core.
They moved in the water as I leaned into this old goodness, trusted it, didn't measure it, didnt analyze it.
Then they watched as the only love I know took me at the mouth, restoring me.
In his bed, under the green glow, we swam.
Coiled, as we slept, I felt that he loved me.