Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Laurel Leaves Aug 2017
curled over the table
I pull on the edges

his body always sat poised when he knew he was right

the way Whiskey used to spill down the sides of my lips
While they curled into a smile I did not recognize

His lips lay flat, a line parallel to the next
They don't move,
They don't hint
Or quiver

I feel the way the oceans rocks my body
The way the waves seem to control my hips when I can't even smell
The maritime air

I move out of memory
Out of nostalgia
Above him
Beside him
Keeping my eyes tightly shut
I follow a rhythm
As he pulls
Grips
Claws
I remain

Above water

— The End —