She had kissed me
or rather we had kissed.
We lay in the churchyard
and spoke, then kissed.
Now I lie on my bed
in the summer evening
and think of her.
I wipe my tongue
over my lips
to find traces of her,
gather elements of spittle,
of particles of her there.
The evening sky is darkening;
it had been a wonderful day,
especially those hours with her.
She lay beside me
a few hours ago;
we had been monarchs
of whatever we saw
in our small world,
looking out amidst
the gravestones
and the dead.
I imagine you
beside me now
in my room
on my bed.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 12:16 PM UTC
She had kissed me
or rather we had kissed.
We lay in the churchyard
and spoke, then kissed.
Now I lie on my bed
in the summer evening
and think of her.
I wipe my tongue
over my lips
to find traces of her,
gather elements of spittle,
of particles of her there.
The evening sky is darkening;
it had been a wonderful day,
especially those hours with her.
She lay beside me
a few hours ago;
we had been monarchs
of whatever we saw
in our small world,
looking out amidst
the gravestones
and the dead.
I imagine you
beside me now
in my room
on my bed.
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