"softener" poems
*i grew
from flowers.
fabric-softener petals
and twirling ivy vines
and quiet dandelions
and ever-sleeping blossoms.
i grew
from oceans.
calmly tossing water
and silent white sand
and slowly-floating seashells.
i grew
from forests.
serene unmoving trees
and soundlessly-swaying grass
and sedated sunlight beams.
i grew
from skies.
silent shooting stars
and twinkling constellations
and ever-so-slightly waning moons.
i grew
from quiet movement
i grew
from sleepy sounds
i grew
from hushed breaths.*
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
You sink into the fresh cotton ocean
fragranced by the oriental softener
I want you to reach into your inner
most abyss, while I pick my lotion.
We are alone my love, tonight
I owe you with my hands, give up the fight
Trust me, while I weave a warm thread of
tenderness on you, with me, you tread.
My fingers cascade and snake along your spine
I dedicate this moment to you. My message
is carved into you during this slow massage
To me, you are truly defenseless, thus divine
Imperceptibly, I skim your skin,
your breath, I appease
my angel, dream with ease
fallen asleep at my shin.
April 9, 2018
To Laurentin
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
Pattern the ice with
your collarbones.
Showers of lavender
hidden in your hiking boots.
Hang stamps from your doorframe,
the snow will melt someday.
The taste of words
bounced out of your mouth
last Sunday evening.
Shrugging off the sun
from the duck pond
to the sand
caught between your sock
and shoe.
I’ve been memorizing
deep breaths
and the way hair curls.
The keyboard knows your
v-neck and
the cocoa powder park.
Strong perfume can’t
be appreciated
under the milky way.
I fixed blue green eyes
on New Year’s,
one side of the
collared shirt turned in,
steam rolling hair and
too much straw.
Old shoes
filled with cinnamon
sit on 4:17pm
with an unmade bed
of sour green vertebrae.
The city at night,
a crescendo,
explodes in silence,
hot tea and warm mugs
tuning campfires
built from matches.
Thursday sunrises
balancing on wool sweaters
and the smell of fabric softener.
The early morning
hurricane over worn wood and
wet pavement
sounds of winter.
The snow’s just trying
to be human.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
I will admit
to overdosing them
with sweet beguiling
slippery softener
‘till dead at my feet
they can rise
no more.
Yet they cling to me
as they can
with a ghastly
screaming need
for me to pull
them up.
Yes, once
I had a pair of normal socks.
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 7:36 AM UTC
I'm hanging out
our ***** laundry
tonight.
Sticks and stones
and broken bones.
Words actually do stain
as my whites mix with colors
and flow through the air,
pegged down to the last insult.
The best stain remover could be love.
But we've got a really
tough collection,
here tonight.
Despite the hot water wash, those
hard-to-get spots are
still there.
And my brain and heart are
being tumble-dried
the heat, the harsh words
washing out my pride.
My outs are in, my ins outside.
The world's a-tumble
As we wear the cloth down
to the last few threads.
As usual, we forgot
a good dose of softener
to make mellow
the words as they jump
from our tongues
and enter our heads.
I would save my heart
if I could save yours, too
But it's just all spinning too fast,
What on earth
Shall we do?
We'll just have to hang it up as it is.
Let the world see
that there is no perfection
Let those dulled brights
be a kind of reflection.
Perhaps next wash will be better.
We'll know by then
what to use.
Perhaps love will take over,
rekindle the blown-out fuse.
Right now I'm just gonna
curl up in this
basket. Wait for the
stormy cycles to end.
One thing's for sure.
We must clean up our act
Lest the cottons unravel
We must sew up each tear
Before our hearts start to travel
We must take care of the frayed silks and satins
the polyester
before they are beyond any repair.
Tend to those stains,
Straighten each snare.
Take my love
In a many-hued heap
Smelling of sweet soap
Warming your cheek.
A leap of faith
A dash of desire
Let's wash out the pain
Rub away all ire.
Let's have a laundry party,
Tonight.
Naked on the clean bright sheets.
Let the kisses remove
the harshest of stains
Let caresses replace the words
of pain.
The only softener we'll use
Is the creaminess of tongues.
Let the world see
Our love, tonight.
Flowing on the line
for all to perceive.
Darling, we must give just to give
And then we'll
receive.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
"May poetry be our salvation,
liberation and Nirvana"
Bala
*so many ifs in our daily lives
the ifs that pockmark lives individuation,
look-back crossroad regrets, daily harvested,
road poorly chosen, the kiss not taken,
a brother, for a petty sake, forsaken,
a sister, sea-drowned, left undefended,
by foolish parental expectations
many are the global conjunctions,
commencing and ending with an "if only,"
today's state-of-the-world curse,
uttered when reading the front page's
mayhem and senseless,
never-aging, new and old excuses raging
so many palliatives on offer,
what matters yet one more,
none seem able, none proven capable,
of essencing a humanity so simple basic
when the moment at hand needs a
redirection that a loving rhyme can sway
but in my inbox from India
comes a hope, a wish,
that leads a man to dream,
envision societies that could
surround-sound itself with wisps of words,
in the oddest places,
throwing us offsides,
in a make us see ourselves
in better ways
a morning poem before the TV weather,
a verse insert
tween news reports
of who murdered whom this day,
subway poems, a Super Bowl commercial
recitation that makes us lick our lips,
poetic literacy in small things,
a minister or president's speech
a recitation of a nation's verbal wealth,
instead of rejoinders and accusations
ah just a foolish notion at 4:22am,
there is no money in poetry,
thus its possibilities to soften and stem,
cure and elevate
enhance the perchance
of a different way to,
salvation, liberation, and nirvana,
seems so unlikely
but there is that small step
one could take,
leave a poem on the night table,
a first thought, a morn pill of humankind,
be a softener of a day just begun*
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
Nobody is in love.
Shoulder to shoulder, flesh spilling over
Flesh: our warm bodies heave
And contort together, leaving no room
For sentiment that goes deeper than
Your off white down comforter.
Nobody is in love.
The harsh sunlight seeps in
Through down turned blinds,
And thin, translucent eyelids,
Both half open, but oblivious to the
Indifferent world. Life is too much with us-
Never leaving us alone to really feel:
The cold, smooth wooden floor pushing up
Against the delicate archs of our sinewy feet,
As they drop down to meet the brisk morning air,
That seems to coat everything revealed and left vulnerable
By the crumpled up sheets limply collapsed over the headrest,
Or the soft, steady breathing
Of someone left unstirred by the dizzying
Relay of thoughts that dance across my
Foolish mind. No one is in love, here.
The last fragment of hope
Was forgotten underneath mismatched blankets
That bear the faint scent of lavender fabric softener sheets
And something that lingers nameless beneath your presence.
The indented pillow, where you lay your head
Holds fast your hollow shape,
As if to remind us that reality is only as real
As those who are brave enough to feel it.
Time treads on and on,
Leaving us scrambling over coffee tables
And yesterdays newspaper strewn across the bedroom floor,
Blindly groping the abysmal space to find something
That isn't really there. Instead it's nestled between
The tiny slivers of our hearts,
Scattered across neon billboards and thee star hotels,
Pleading with us to acknowledge it's elusive presence
Before the world runs out of excuses,
And we're met with a big boom,
That probably will never even be felt.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
I am a shifting sky,
pale of pomegranate pink
to the desert plains of your
sloping skin stretched over
your bony fingers. Please think
of me when you press digits
to your lips, feel inked
numbers pulse in your pocket.
Expect me in a leather jacket
shining like oil-packed puddles,
breath heavy like smacking cigars
against brick walls and tonguing
the mortar. Expect me burrowing
my nails underneath your wedding
veil, chipped polish closing
in on the chiffon, expect my noose
of sheets to use your fabric softener,
the scent of your bed, fresh,
before we laid down in it.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
When my body can't take it anymore
I go into the closet- not to pray, but to worship;
I kiss the complacent coat hangers there, orderly on their metallic racks,
My lips on smooth plastic; eyes closed,
All senses centered on my mouth;
Enraptured, I can't see any colors at all..
The surface doesn't soften, as I beat out my lips
Against the mild anvil; altar of pain, loving the more distant you
Somewhere on a compass that the heart knows best;
This pain is merely a devotional exercise, to take my mind
Off the fact that the hangers can't actually kiss me back.
The wool blazer has your blue eyes;
The polo shirt has some, not all, of your softness.
The shoes delicately waft a heavy, calming manly odor of leather.
The weight of the clothing leans back against me, sighing
And muffles most of my cries and exclamations
While I sway, to their soapy limerance of fabric softener and dust.
If I push far enough into them, they enclose me all around
Just like a lover's firm grasp, of aching seams and straining stitches,
Loving me soundlessly, from many directions at once.
To silent, undanced waltzes, we hang together, in furtive salute;
For they are not free, and neither am I;
But we can dream together, in the small cottony, worsted room,
For we are old friends, we have known both sunshine and rainshower together
And long, undying afternoons, of tears and questioning why.
They have known many of my beloved's names,
And I in turn have seen them both inside and out, plush and threadbare.
We have no secrets any longer; I know their every scar by heart
As well as they know mine:
I can never discard even one of their kind,
I have to keep them closer than skin.
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 8:14 AM UTC
Nobody ever misses me right away.
I have a tendency of making my way into parts of your life that you don’t notice until long after I’m gone.
You’ll think of me in the laundromat, when someone three washers down has the same fabric softener I had just washed my clothes with the night before our first date.
You’ll think of me at the coffee shop, when someone ahead of you in line asks for three sugars and two creamers, like I used to.
You’ll think of me when your sister shows up to your house wearing the same nail polish I did the first time you kissed the back of my hand.
You’ll think of me when you’re in the car alone and you realize you don’t turn on the radio anymore, ‘cause our silence used to be better than whatever was playing.
You won’t really realize it until it’s too late and I’m too far gone.
Until I’m so deeply embedded into your memory and intertwined into your everyday life.
You won’t miss me immediately.
It’ll take some time.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
It was a cold December morning
At 3:45 AM
I woke up early
I was not going
To go through
This ordeal again
I drove down to the park
And had constipation
In the dark
But thankfully
The stool softener
Kicked in
Life's a game
I'll never win
Later I began to drive
Here and there
I'm all alone
And no one cares
The gym and Starbucks
We're closed
And I had nowhere to go
Later I would see
Mountains covered in snow
Driving around
Driving around
Life is some kind
Of Merry Go Round
I have a few friends
I'm glad I do
You learned the story
Of A Christmas poo
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
Set the fig leaves on delicate
Make sure to add softener
Before the spin cycle
Then hang them to dry
While waiting
Might as well find
A Good Book to read
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 10:39 PM UTC
Do you know what home feels like?
When I found you, I remembered
I didn’t even know I had forgotten
Isn’t that funny?
How everything you’ve ever wanted creeps in when you aren’t looking
But I was always looking for family
So when I found them
It felt like I was dreaming
Or maybe I finally felt like family too
I sit up at night
Studying both sides of my hands
How much time did I lose?
Was it a dream, after all?
I couldn’t have been asleep that long
Your breath still bathes the skin of my shoulders
Your hands still fumbles in my blankets
I still feel you
I must have had too much to drink because when I woke you were just.. gone and I was on
A stranger’s couch
Kindness on the table cooked perfectly
Every smile feels like The Truman Show, honestly
Wait
Wasn’t I just with my family?
Don’t I have family?
I was just thinking of my family
Could you tell?
Do I look like I need it? Can you tell I’ve been violently weeping in the wood? I’m some sort of ghost, will you take care of me? Have I skinned my knees? My palms sting. Did somebody say something when I was out because there’s a sheet of softener in here and everything is dry even though you have to hit the button every 20 minutes and I always forget to come back
It’s sweet to know at least somebody’s mother is watching my clothes while I step out for air
You didn’t have to
I should say thank you
I look around
Last in, first out
Not a scratch in my day but
How long do you spend here?
Cleaning all the clothes in the house
My house is small
So sometimes I let my basket build for weeks
So I can stay a little longer
Flaunting XLs like I got somebody at home
Oh, I hear him making dinner now
Throwing the pan across the room when I smash my finger putting away the cart, making a scene just to hear me laugh
He’s on his knees in seconds just to **** the blood from my knuckles and
Get this,
He doesn’t even
Spit it out
He looks up smiling and says,
“What would people think?”
Now, the sight of blood makes me dizzy
But it isn’t the color
I’ve always known how to clean up after myself but it feels
Harder now
To have less in my basket
I’ll just take my time folding
Anyway, I like the lighting in here
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 1:00 PM UTC
How might he sing of this Queen that he found
Of their trip through the stars
Of the sights and the sounds
The soft subtle glow from her sun-kissed skin
Her Magic and rhythm that oozed from within
Of Holding her close, getting lost in her eyes
The lattice of limbs, the world passing by
Much more to this union than physics and heat
Their mind-space meeting place first of all treats
Hard to face truths they would tackle as one
Before all that JuJu had even begun
There in those convos through hours unfolding
A Lucid flowetry & neither witholding
She opened her heart up revealing her past
Her Darkness and Strengths
A history so vast
The degree of compassion and comprehension
Served as a softener, negating all tension
And he, he felt worthy, enough for a tear
To receive all she was
Dark and Light
Love and Fear
Pickled perspectives through dilated seers
Dissolving of egos & bringing forth tears
Humbly he knelt, for in him she would trust
Honouring intention
And Self
Before lust
Digesting their truths on candle light beams
Backing track soundscapes of finish him themes
Magnetic her radiance, a colourwheel aura
Bodies' bouquet, scents sweeter than flora
Skin to skin textures their grip free to roam
Tastes of pure Stardust
Her flavour was... Home
A moment removed from time's ceaseless pace
Light breaking birdsong, Love dripped from her face
The world switched on and began it's routine
While Awestruck he witnessed this manifest dream
Cat cursed yet tireless he played to her choir
Their Synchronous vibrations raised forever higher
There's never before been, nor again will there be
A woman of resonance as Perfect as she
Subjectively perfect, Ubiquitous truth
Yet how we see perfect requires no proof
All of his senses Peaked & Saturated
All his Desires
In this Queen concentrated
Once in a lifetime the lucky may find
A someone of substance who stimulates the mind
Once in a lifetime the lucky may be
With One who cultivates a compatible energy
Once in a lifetime the lucky may hold
The attention and Love of their true Twin Soul
But the idea that One girl could be all this and more
A concept so enticing he just can't ignore
The poetry of Presence
The Nourishment of Osmosis
The Freedom of the Eternal Now
She's Imperfectly Perfect
She's Perfectly Imperfect
His Queen Supreme
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 1:32 AM UTC
Him:
I can’t listen to my favourite song,
Because I shared it with you.
I don’t have a favourite film,
Because you seen it first with me.
I won’t eat enchiladas,
Because “nobody cooks ‘em like you do.”
I can’t look at my guitar,
Because you’re not here to play it to.
I never visit the beach,
Because it’s where we kissed for the first time every year.
I gave up singing too,
Because you were the only one who said I could.
I don’t use fabric softener anymore,
Because it can’t comfort me like you did.
I refuse to wear my old white shirt,
Because we both know who looked better in it...
Her:
I listen to your favourite song,
Because I don’t want to listen to anyone else.
I watch your favourite film,
Because you were so excited to show me first.
I eat enchiladas every week,
So that I might have reason to invite you to dinner.
I stop by the music store every month,
So I can be reminded of you and your guitar.
I visit the beach every year,
But the wind never quite blows the same when you’re not there.
I wish I could hear you sing to me now,
It makes you so happy when you do.
I use the same fabric softener you have,
Because it’s the smell of your arm around me.
I want to ask you for your old white shirt,
But I’m afraid that you’ll say no...
Him & Her:
I want to call you, talk to you
But I’m afraid you’ve moved on.
I don’t want to seem lost and lonely to you,
Even if it’s true.
Because I want to hold your hand again
And feel the perfect overlap
Of lines across our palms.
I want to be drawn to your eyes once more,
Locked together and speaking
All the words I can’t say.
I want to dare to touch your skin
And trace outlines
Across your back.
I want to share your smile
First thing in the morning, last thing at night
Knowing it’s because I’m there.
I want cold beers to turn warm
In the evening sun
Because I’m lost in your conversation.
But I’m too afraid to knock on your door,
When you’re around,
And find disappointment, crushing down.
Jul 21, 2010
Jul 21, 2010 at 5:04 PM UTC
Thursday Morning
Check out my books www.amazon.com/author/richardratliff
Morning comes now
With no alarm no razors edge
Splash of warm water and a brush
Yesterday's slacks are clean
Instant coffee then
Inhalers, pills stool softener
Morning news email and Facebook
Breakfast from the drive through
Trash set out at the curb
It must be Thursday
Unless yesterday was a holiday
Have to ponder this
Must exercise on the treadmill
Twenty minutes slow walk
Some days more some less
Just keep moving is a goal
Guess I'll work on a poem
At least for a while
Till its time
To get my poppy seeds
From television for the afternoon
Evening news
It is Thursday
Better bring in the cans
Before harvesting the poppies
On tonight's cable
Copyright 2016
Richard L Ratliff
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 5:19 PM UTC
A glass of fabric softener to begin the evening
Followed by a sick-scented bleach chaser
Just another Facebook fascination
A text or two to say goodbye or **** you
What's the honest response to hearing the lost?
To knowing a scream when you see it in the silence?
When the distance is ever-wide between the two?
Each of us is living in a world where bleach cost money
But laundry and loneliness have always been free
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 3:57 AM UTC
The candle stores
can't candle
fabric softener on your clothes
or the bit of alcohol
on your sleepy breath
or your chest after a shower.
I checked.
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 4:41 PM UTC
September 25th 2012
I was in your bathtub and we were laughing about the fact that we were so close awkward moments didn't exist. I put bubbles on your thigh and you made that squeaky noise I wasn't supposed to tell anyone you could make, it wasn't manly.
October 1st 2012
I was driving on highway 80 and I couldn't really see because the windshield wipers didn't work on water inside of the car. You couldn't tell me what you wanted and I knew that meant it wasn't me you just didn't fully know it yet.
October 2nd 2012
You tried to do it with 180 characters but I wasn't having that and when you called your voice broke before you could say my name. The number of times you said I love you in those twenty minutes outnumbered how many times you had in the past two weeks, by tens.
November 10th 2012
I cried in your sisters arms because yours weren't there and she smelled like your fabric softener.
November 25th 2012
I packaged all your letters in a box with a few of my own and mailed them back. You called me to ask why I would do that to you. I asked you why it mattered and you told me you slept with the blanket we made love on every night. I didn't know why that mattered either.
December 27th 2012
I laid in someone else's arms and they held me while I cried about whether anyone else's arms felt like home. He didn't deserve it, neither did I. This is my apology for trying to move on and bringing him into it.
January 11th 2013
You saw me for the first time and even though you hate tattoos you told me mine was **** You were drunk and you thought my shirt needed a few more buttons, you didn't like anyone else to see me when you couldn't. You told me not to tell you I wasn't in love with you anymore. I told you that was what you had wanted.
February 13th 2013
He had cancer and you were the only person I knew how to tell. But you were busy and you said if I was going to pull that **** to take it somewhere else. I learned who you were that night even though you'd always told me.
March 2nd 2013
It wasn't a special day, nothing happened. But I realized I had stopped letting it be about you. I stopped thanking you for letting me go and just let go.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
There was this thing
that I still can't forget about you
Two conflicting scents
But both are intoxicating
in their own way
the scent of cheap fabric softener that I fairly used
and
filtered cigarette smell sticking on your jacket sleeves
Maybe if I miss you that much,
I could try to recreate
that smell on my sleeves too
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
rims of golden curls
hover above your head
while chesnut spaghetti strands
coat mine instead
underwater your eyes are crystalline
like a true blue green i've never seen
but mine fade from brown to black
never once emitting a gleam
your shirts smell like fabric softener and cigarettes
which i often smell outside
and everything we've ever done
crashes into my mind like a riptide
do you see what i see when i look at you?
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
I remember when I was a kid I used to go into my parents room and pull off their covers so just the sheet was left. I would lift it up above my head and crawl underneath before it laid itself back down. I remember how comforting the smell of fabric softener was and to see the sun peeking through the white sheet. (Love is comfort, you are comfort) I remember loving everything and everyone without a doubt in my mind that they loved me too. (I loved you, and I know you loved me too; although you had a funny way of showing it) I remember rolling around in the grass and searching for lady bugs so I could hold them for just a second before they flew away. They interested me more than anything and I could stare at them for hours. (You caught my attention, but just like the lady bugs, you left too) I remember gathering flowers in a bucket so I could pluck all of the petals off and throw them around the yard so that there could be vibrant colors scattered everywhere. (Kind of reminds me of what you did to my heart) I remember the first time it snowed here I made a snowball and placed it in the freezer in hopes that it would last forever. My mother got rid of it one day and I didn't even notice. (I tried to keep you forever too, but you slipped away without any warning) I remember finding injured birds and keeping them in a box until they were strong enough to fly away. I always loved keeping baby birds and seeing them fly off for the first time in their entire life. (I helped mend your broken heart and once you felt okay again, you moved on to bigger and better things) I remember getting into fights with my sister and one of us would end up hitting the other out of anger, but we'd be laughing ten minutes later about God knows what, forgetting why we were angry in the first place. (We constantly fought but neither of us could stay mad at the other. Maybe that was our problem.) This is what love is.
B.S.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 4:26 AM UTC
I was in a shop recently
And a voice said, "Phil!"
I turned to see a stranger smiling at me
I said, "That's me, mate but
You've got the better of me.
The face is familiar," I lied
He said his name was ****
Which limited it to the hundreds
Of Micks that I've met
Then he mentioned his surname
And the dusty rusty cogs of memory
Started to slowly grind into life
By the time I was leaving the shop
I knew exactly who he was
From when we met
About fifty years earlier
We both started our working careers
At the same textile mill
About four or five of us kids
Were the butts of all jokes and tricks
Mostly we would pull our faces a bit
Swear a helluva lot
And laugh it off with everyone else
A lot of how we would be treated
Would depend on our reactions to this
It was normal
Traditional even
Never too malicious and no-one got hurt
He brought his ****** mother down!
I think he left not long after
A couple of years or so later
We happened to use the same pub
He had his friends and I had mine
And we didn't mix, might say "Hi" at the bar
Then....
He got the landlord's thirteen year old daughter pregnant
Then dumped her and said that
He wanted nothing to do with the child
He was at least eighteen then
Now, whether through arrogance or stupidity
Or, more likely, cruelty
He carried on using the pub!
Unsurprisingly
He was beaten up outside
It wasn't serious
No hospitalization or broken bones
Just a softener
Then I was asked to be a go-between
Because I "knew" **** and they trusted me
So I went to his home and spoke to his family
A meeting was arranged I believe
And I don't recall any more
So yeah
I remember you
Ya little ****
By Phil Roberts
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 7:57 AM UTC
maybe I should have expected this
all along
for him to stop while he was ahead
and cut his losses
by desperately searching for the hold button
two and a half weeks before our lives were supposed
to start changing
maybe I rushed this part
this part where we were supposed to grow together
as if we hadn't been doing just that
for the past three years of our lives
but I'd still close my eyes every afternoon
and snuggle into the cotton of your t shirt
the warm glow of the setting sun washing over your walls
feeling like the luckiest girl alive
just to be able to be sitting there
smelling the fabric softener of your bed sheets
lilacs and lavender
feeling like if it weren't for the weight of your hand on my chest
that maybe
I could float away from all of this
two and a half weeks before our lives were supposed to start changing
I realize that
all I really need
is now
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
Her first day at the new job.
Lead Graphic Designer, Norway.
I'm as proud as her parents.
She's a goddess at work.
I walk past the white church
And up the hill. Kindergarten
Sounds. The key she gave me
Fits. Why wouldn't it?
I arrive before her.
Barely anything here is mine.
Yesterday's red wine stains
On the glass table
Remind me of something
She did that made me laugh
So hard that Portuguese
Stuff almost came out of my
Nose. She cracks me up.
Cracks me open like a can of
Tuborg and helps herself to
Mouthfuls of my infatuation.
I am in awe, I catch myself
Thinking as I rest my bag on
Her sofa and join it.
Silence but for the shy humming
Of the fridge. She has a thing for
Freshness; every room smells clean.
The scent of fabric softener on
Her bed mixes beautifully
With that of her skin. I noticed it
The first time we hugged.
The first time we met.
First date,
Not even a month ago.
Moving fast; we've agreed that
We're too old to not let ourselves
Get carried away.
Too much to lose, to lose.
First time alone in her apartment.
I'm not a guest here,
No stranger to these walls.
In good old fashioned love, but
More. Just as anyone in any kind
Of love feels theirs is.
I try not to wait for the sound of
Heels up the outside stairs, but I am
Too happy not to, and for now I'm
Just relieved; the key she gave me
Fits. Why wouldn't it?
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 7:49 AM UTC