I wrote this exactly a year ago (again)

Overgrown emerald fescue
intertwined with golden patches of grass
cradle my bare feet,
while I sit on worn boards
as the wind and your fingers
tousle my hair.
And I cannot decide
which soothes me more.

Pale light from heaven
filters through the clouds
and kisses my shoulder,
where your lips rested
only hours earlier.
And I cannot decide
which warmed me more

tomorrow, tomorrow...

and if tomorrow, dawn
comes without a sunrise-
without reds
without dew
without hope;
if it comes with clouds
with fog
with frost
still the world will wake up
and stretch their hands
towards the saddened sky.

and if tomorrow, the sea
rages without end-
batters my little boat,
and breaks it's wooden ribs
on the rocks
and shreds the canvas sail
with wind,
I will mend it all by evening
and begin again in the morning.

and if tomorrow,
I wake up hollow-
the sea will rage, without end
and the sun will rise, without hope
and I will know
that you have gone.

march 1st, 2008

I wrote this a year and nine days ago...

He smelled like cigarettes. Not strongly, but faintly, almost like an air of cologne rather than a haze of smoke. I like him this way. Green button down shirts with the sleeves rolled halfway up, contacts instead of glasses, and strong, sure arms. The sky seemed like midnight at only half past eight, so we sat on rusty trailers and told bad jokes. His hands found my shoulders, or my sides, or whereever they liked, and rested or rubbed accordingly. None of this was sensual so much as all of it was sacred. The entire evening a "moment" as he called it, breathing in lungfuls of air and laying on his back.

"You even have a pretty heartbeat" he says, I ruffle his hair and rub my face in it. He wraps me up in both arms and lays his face on mine, gently, thoughtfully, and I feel the few rough patches on his cheek. I giggle, and he smiles. We're both quiet for a few breaths, and then he softly kisses my cheek.

"sometimes you just know 'this is a moment' and so you have to stop, and remember all the details, so that when you think of it again it's there, clearly."

I think I might be in love..

with this dress.