well I never…

I’ve never been good at remembering the good times. everything that has hurt me is a bright red stitch in the tapestry of my life but the good things? they tend to dissolve after too short a time. maybe there’s a survival metaphor here but, no.

the past few days? I want never to forget them. not in a faded photograph way, but in a visceral way that makes my heart swell and my breath quicken and my vision get all sparkly. I want there to always be a place in my mind where I can experience the way the air was cold between our bodies and the way I felt beautiful in a way that didn’t require other people’s eyes and the way his (eyes) went liquid and I delighted in drowning…

…all the ways in which the little secret thoughts inside of me were suddenly given physical form and I was allowed to twirl around and between and through them all day long.

if only there were new words, better words, words that crackled like the spine of a never-opened book, words that smelled of new leather, words that fit just right before multiple stains and stretches and washings…

words that do justice to the way every corner of my anatomy seemed to sing, every atom vibrating at the same frequency, everything effortless and perfect and pure…

instead I will use words that dance around these non-existent words, words that fill in the negative space around the bright white glow of the way I finally seemed to fit somewhere for the very, very first time, and the way that that somewhere was a person. a flawed, incredible, lovable, perfect person that I am bound by the cords of these memories, clumsily represented by these words, to love for the rest of my life. a life that will necessarily be too short because it will eventually end and we will be parted.

his world.

my world.

our world.

 

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About tehlorkay

writer of poems and longer things. restless wanderer of small-town streets. unabashed seeker of the true world.
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