Tracing circles on your stomach like ripples in a pond.
There is this time just before 11 at night, every night, the light diluted and lacking life. A paleness shows the darkened corners of the rooms. Casted shadows stain the walls. The light moves across the walls fluttering and flapping their wings without flying. Colors changing about from the muted TV and the muted me. No sounds. Years of what has been lonely stains the walls like wet paint. Midnight will come and it will step slowly across the floor and surround us. It hangs heavy around us.
I take your hand and we both struggle with the whispers. There are long stories to tell. Do you feel the lips on your ear? Muted voices because of our constricted throats. Together, we crave anything that won’t steal our words.
You’ve turned away and our hands fall apart. I will follow you. We know we can never return to what came before.
A smile slips out from the corner of my mouth as I remember seeing you emerge from the sky. Molding your body to the wind, your swagger sways, your beautiful copper skin. Take my wings and use them to fly away from what keeps you trapped. Some night we will dance to the pounding of your heart. We will become midnight dancers. Lost to a lustful longing, I must have you. Some night I will strip and walk closer to the water and slowly slip into your sea; the smell of oranges so sweet.
Would you even look up at me? Can I tempt your lips? Will you entertain for at least a moment, while you’re finding your strength and becoming braver, that you think of me tomorrow? So long have we longed to thrust into each other and swallow the aching and finally tasting life.
