Jun. 28, 2014
I Saw you for the first time in months last Thursday. And when you hugged me the only thing I could smell were our three am showers, waking you up with my love, kisses adoring your face and seven thirty am coffee rushing out the door already knowing I was going to be late for work. You left these scents stained on my clothes like lavender was weaved into the fabric of my shirt. As if you dumped the coffee grounds onto the floorboards and crushed them with your feet leaving bits of what was on everything that’s mine. I am yearning on the inside because I want to explore you with my other senses as I have before. I want to Hear that sigh as I press my lips to your thighs. I want to Taste you all over again so bad my mouth is on fire. The flames from my chest are creeping up my throat you are the oxygen to keep it alive. And I don’t know what to do with my hands around you because the only familiar thing to do is to touch your face, pull your body towards mine. Feel your skin with my skin. You are there but I want you here, closer because close is/was never close enough. But you leave me deaf. The nerves in my finger tips are damaged. My mouth is but a pile of coals. I leave your apartment in a lavender sweater and drive away with coffee grounds between my toes.