nine.
title: my turn to say goodbye
type: poetry
rating: pg
notes: this was written using "write or die" as recommended by ava_leigh_fitz
for Andrew.
Night breaks across the city
Your tapered legs still tangled in mine,
Buried beneath the ivory sheets.
Snow against wood,
Loved best and closest
When fast asleep
*
The matron coughs, hat tilted over eyes,
Sipping tea like a Bracknell-cliché.
Archetypes are never extinct.
You look at me and smile a little crooked,
Your eyes hold a secret shared by two children like stolen apples.
Our hands fumble under the table.
Fingers lace, snow and wood.
Your mother coughs again.
*
I am not a romantic.
At least, I wasn’t then.
I was kisses in corners and
One-night-onlys.
You took that away.
You took a lot of things away from me and
You never gave them back.
*
The sun burns you and saves it’s more tender
Caresses for me.
The sand in your clenched fist
Spilling from your fingers to my lap when you kissed me.
You tasted like the sun, the sea and the wind
You tasted like the beach,
You tasted like me.
*
We survive the winter.
Bodies press together for warmth.
“I’ll love you forever,” promise feverish kisses
And limbs still twine.
*
She coughs loudest in February.
You don’t call for a week-
You were never good at saying good bye.
*
A month later on wide open streets,
You push up your glasses to the bridge of your nose and laugh.
It’s awkward.
“I don’t miss you,” I say.
It’s my turn to leave.
*
Time moves on without me.
So do you.
I don’t miss you and it’s true.
My legs, though-
My legs are lonely.