there is something nostalgic in every part of you
in your thighs beneath my childhood frame
the crook of your neck pressed against my nose
your voice throughout the walls—yellow, burgundy, blue
the dull thump of your heart crashing
through your chest—up your bones
to your shoulders to your neck and your skin
reaching up through your body into my small ear
your breathing was deep and meaningful
slow and done with purpose (everything you did
had purpose) and, as a child always clings to their mother,
i tried to match my own breath to yours
-f.j.e.
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 7:59 PM UTC
there is something nostalgic in every part of you
in your thighs beneath my childhood frame
the crook of your neck pressed against my nose
your voice throughout the walls—yellow, burgundy, blue
the dull thump of your heart crashing
through your chest—up your bones
to your shoulders to your neck and your skin
reaching up through your body into my small ear
your breathing was deep and meaningful
slow and done with purpose (everything you did
had purpose) and, as a child always clings to their mother,
i tried to match my own breath to yours
-f.j.e.
for my mom, a year since i lost her