Aug 2012
I’m laying here thinking, writing,
Face half-buried in a pillow you hugged earlier and the spicy, wild, human smell of your deodorant is getting me drunk and drowsy,
Seeping in, stirring wilderness into my blood,
Moving,
Vibrating my bones.
My eyelids are falling; it’s 4 at least.
You look back again, smile and kiss air and mouth, “Go to sleep.”
I’ve never cared for big muscles,
But your shoulders are changing my mind, shrug by shrug.
It’s the valley between them, I think, at the base of your neck,
The neck that brings me back to the trunk of the trees I used to climb back home.
Like the old days.
And you’re still the new days,
Even after all this time. You’re still something new.
The warm, yellow glow of the desk lamp melts waves down your back as the keyboard clicks and clicks against silence and I breathe in again, deep, and sleep.
Face half-buried in a pillow you hugged earlier and the spicy, wild, human smell of your deodorant is getting me drunk and drowsy,
Seeping in, stirring wilderness into my blood,
Moving,
Vibrating my bones.
My eyelids are falling; it’s 4 at least.
You look back again, smile and kiss air and mouth, “Go to sleep.”
I’ve never cared for big muscles,
But your shoulders are changing my mind, shrug by shrug.
It’s the valley between them, I think, at the base of your neck,
The neck that brings me back to the trunk of the trees I used to climb back home.
Like the old days.
And you’re still the new days,
Even after all this time. You’re still something new.
The warm, yellow glow of the desk lamp melts waves down your back as the keyboard clicks and clicks against silence and I breathe in again, deep, and sleep.
