we put lisa to sleep on a mattress by the fire and all of a sudden it became clear to me that we were alone for the first time since... well, since the last time, which was a lifetime or more ago... when we were pretending not to be in love and falling in love. when there was mold on the walls and the paint was peeling and the music was always metal and loud. when we were children. when he was still alive.
a million things have changed since then, but apparently the force we've always been together is not one of them.
I was alone with you as the sky was lightening and the birds were swooping into the yard and the only sound was the fire crackling and our cigarettes traveling to and from our mouths which weren't... saying anything.
alone we passed a bottle of wine back and forth and became dizzy and delirious and moved closer and closer together until our fingers intertwined and the words began, halting and awkward at first until we remembered the rhythm of conversing that we'd almost perfected before we parted.
things we don't say to anyone come forward and we reminisce and ramble and all the while our hands are remembering each other's and finally our mouths are quiet and they're remembering too and it is such a relief to me that I wasn't the only one who missed us... who wanted this. you admitted as much, more candid than you ever were before, and it was a relief to hear you say you had loved me then.
it was more of a relief to hear you say you still do.
finally the inevitable happened and we were crawling into bed, reveling in the feeling of being close after believing we weren't allowed to be, that we would never be again. feeling beautiful and loved I let the guilt melt away and enjoyed the knowledge of your eyes on me, your mouth, your hands, remembered the unique way I feel with you that's never been the same before or since... the reverence I feel for your body and your mind and the way they fit with mine so perfectly, combined with the giddy recklessness of trusting someone absolutely...
I missed you.
a million things have changed since then, but apparently the force we've always been together is not one of them.
I was alone with you as the sky was lightening and the birds were swooping into the yard and the only sound was the fire crackling and our cigarettes traveling to and from our mouths which weren't... saying anything.
alone we passed a bottle of wine back and forth and became dizzy and delirious and moved closer and closer together until our fingers intertwined and the words began, halting and awkward at first until we remembered the rhythm of conversing that we'd almost perfected before we parted.
things we don't say to anyone come forward and we reminisce and ramble and all the while our hands are remembering each other's and finally our mouths are quiet and they're remembering too and it is such a relief to me that I wasn't the only one who missed us... who wanted this. you admitted as much, more candid than you ever were before, and it was a relief to hear you say you had loved me then.
it was more of a relief to hear you say you still do.
finally the inevitable happened and we were crawling into bed, reveling in the feeling of being close after believing we weren't allowed to be, that we would never be again. feeling beautiful and loved I let the guilt melt away and enjoyed the knowledge of your eyes on me, your mouth, your hands, remembered the unique way I feel with you that's never been the same before or since... the reverence I feel for your body and your mind and the way they fit with mine so perfectly, combined with the giddy recklessness of trusting someone absolutely...
I missed you.
