My imagination alone dangerously remembers—“us.” My heart wants yours back.
To touch you with my thoughts makes my skin ache with jealousy and my hands restless— God how they want to run themselves up your arms, into the sleeves of your t-shirt tracing the contours of your shoulders, the nape of your neck, your skin a map memorized by my fingertips.
I can catch your scent with these memories, inhaling as if my lips were at your earlobes and I could leave my desire there with my exhale. Where we would have sighed together, I sigh alone— with memories that tease with an unkind intensity.
The love that lingers for you is riddled with desire, but confined to gratitude— thankful for having had you at all to stir up fear and coax it into excitement. I’m grateful for the parts of me I wouldn’t have seen without you, like an elixir of truth into my ability to love, to let in— to let go.
I’ve let my hands go from yours, but not my heart. Its been undone— revealing an immense capacity to feel, and I will collect our memories as lessons, as now a witness to where I gave everything and nothing at all and let the repressed truths from the depths of my being shine for having been kissed so sweetly by your acceptance and your love will linger in my growing to love myself and one day—another again.
Right now I don’t need anything more than the weight of your arms across my waist and your skin as warm as your breath,
than the dance of our fingers, tangling with each other’s, mine comb through your hair, tracing gingerly down your neck, spine, the sides of your stomach, watching your skin goose bump;
yours so delicate for their rough skin, effortless across the curve of my hips—like sand caught in gentle salty breezes.
I don’t need anything more than to feel my back arch at your touch, those same arms pulling me closer as if to embed my body in yours— as if I could leave at any moment. I won’t.
I will weave my legs with yours and kiss your chest, your jaw, find your lips with mine and lose myself there—
your kisses as heavy as your questions, your words as laced with intimacy as your gentle tongue. I don’t need promises of forever, but oh is it sweet to listen to your naked honesty.
I only need your raw truths in these moments— to ride the confessions, the fears, the immediacy of every emotion— when everything is this potent there is no room to wonder why, only know that we are meant for a forever’s worth of nows like this.