I shouldn’t think of you still. The science says 6 months to two years. And yet. The thought of whisky and ice, and your- … add one more night to the leaning.
It is not so remarkable. To be two in seven billion. To find each other in the throng. It is not so remarkable to navigate the wide oceans and narrow fences between us, to swim and scramble, and to arrive at each other at last. It’s not so remarkable to shake loose from our skins,Continue reading “Not a single thing”
And don’t mind my nerve …
What she learnt – eventually.
“Tell the truth. Then obscure it with fact.” body, remember #manifesto
For seven years we were lovers. For seven years you shucked me from my skin, shook me loose and left me scrambling for the pieces. Everything I had ever learned receded in the glare of your gold band. I spent years riding my freedom with the curb of this bit. And as your sign flickeredContinue reading “The glare of your gold band”
What does the body remember of another? What memory sits at the tip of the tongue, ready to burst? Does desire constantly swim in the veins, little pieces of longing that warm the blood and rise to the surface at the slightest provocation? Do they reconstruct and orient the desire toward that which we cannotContinue reading “body, remember”
There is no lover’s dictionary. No universal definition to the flutters and thuds of the human heart. Love exists in the language of private metaphor, in the image sought through fingers reaching, through eyes slow-closed and teeth on lip. See, I could fill rooms and mouths to understand just what it was you did toContinue reading “Love?”
The only truths I ever told were with my body, Mack. Every time I laid us down. The sincerity of the body has been much maligned by the idea that words are more honest than a beating heart. This is what I have learned since then, that my body knew us better. Every confession itContinue reading “Mosaic”