When I can hold you again
I’ll no longer
need to squeeze
eyes shut
each night
to battle with time.
I won’t be searching
for memories
of you under my arm
hand strewn
across my waist
pulling me close to you.
This, my evening ritual
as if we’ll never again
be nestled,
two jigsaw pieces –
me between your legs
your hand on my heart.
As if we’ll never again be clad
in nylon lace cami
grey basketball shorts.
As if I’d never find
your hand on my torso again
and get to hold it a while,
before letting go,
turning around
to fight with snores,
wishing myself away.
When I can hold you again
I won’t wish.
I won’t let go.
When I can hold you again.
When can I hold you again?
Image courtesy of Anastasia Skylar.
