Slipping off a tight skin.
Slipping off the elastic that hugs my curls to my scalp,
Itching my scalp and slipping under my covers,
I remember the feeling of your toes nuzzling mine,
Our little creatures in their cozy black cavern,
Your hands on my waist
Haunt me.

I have a picture of you
That I’ve tried to draw so many times
I can feel it stained charcoal black on the backs of my eyelids.
You are under a tree and you are butter yellow
And it is warm and soft,
And the branches are twisting around us like safety nets.
I wonder how many times I’ve started to fall apart,
Just to have this image catch me.

Somewhere it is summer,
Somewhere this is new and we are strangers.
Somewhere I am bug bites, bruises and boots,
And I walk into the room where you sit
Unknowing that soon,
There will not be a room I enter
Without looking for your skinny nose
And smile.