Saturday, August 31, 2013
I remember that day in your house, so cold I stood right by the furnace or in your lap.
A giant white robe, bare feet, my wet hair against my skin.
We left no room for the t.v.
Consumed, wrapped up in blankets and euphoria.
That was the beginning of me.
So long ago together. Building, painting, pressing, searching.
The time when you were so sick. You were a terrible patient.
I doted, you slept. We fit.
Memories blur with dreams, did you really happen?
You have been so many. Too many.
You're a trench coat, a tee shirt, a pair of cut off jeans, and a tattoo.
You have paint under your nails and a crooked smile.
I still don't know you.
Trying to solve the mystery of you, I found more of me.
I found a piece of me when we drove all over for barbeque. I found adventure.
When I chased you around with a camera while you made art, I found play.
When you walked into work and I went all warm inside, I found lust.
When you scared me, I found courage.
They come like waves. The sweet experiences shared in such a brief time.
Our two-step, our duet, our language, I liked you.
The separateness of our lives was too vast.
Is too vast.
Our lives unfolding, apart.
So far apart.
from amelia at 12:51 AM