problem loading posts

..on my way back to the city, scrolling through what you’ve said to me in the last few days, still tender and seared from the fight, the first, maybe, of more. Blips of light float by. Sweat drips into the waistline of my denim. There are moments we like to replay in our heads. How I keep going back to last night when something woke me up, the air conditioning humming, my back to you as you pulled the sheet up to my shoulder, the blanket followed, slow, purposeful. And that familiar arm around my waist.

It’s in the embers of an argument when you realize what’s possible in your heart.

I won’t use that word.
Not yet.

I’m ok with what we don’t say.


It’s when, in restlessness of the minutes before we have to wake up, when you try to figure out how seal the spaces between our bodies. Your eyes closed to the world, feeling around for me, smoothing over edges, the way you sigh into the slope of my shoulder. We may fall asleep back to back, ankles touching, unaware how we move into each other in the thick of sleep, but when the room lightens, when I can inhale and take you in next to me, I feel like I exist.


The days are overlapped with you. Sometimes I’m still not sure how I feel about this, where we are in the sleep deprived, sultry state of it all. I can taste you in all of the food I eat now. You are salt, a necessity. Today, I left you hours ago and I already want my hands on you again, tugging at the hem of your shirt, feeling my own nakedness while I look out the window from my bed in the middle of the day. You have become part of the sweat that dampens the corners of me, the places where you like to put your hands, and your mouth, the most.