Untitled

He had freckles on the back of his tanned shoulders just like you
Like the first time I knew I loved you
When we only knew each other for a few weeks and kissed under the full moon on the way home
On the beach on the last day of summer
I drew my hands through the cooling sand
traced constellations in those freckles
Didn’t know it was love but it was
it blossomed as the summer fell into fall

In the morning light on the pink sheets in my parents’ home
Where we lay many mornings,
many mornings ago,
I kissed those freckles that looked like yours and finally felt at home again in that home.

He hopped over the balcony onto the roof 13 flights up
He ran around like I know you would have, had I let you
But he didn’t laugh like you did,
Like I imagine Peter Pan would.
He held my face, but it didn’t fit as well as it did in your palm
And I remembered the goodbye kiss I gave you was on that calloused palm
So I said goodbye to him
He wasn’t you enough

I thought I caught your eyes on the crowded bar patio,
He held his cigarette like you did,
with confidence and ease stretched between those fingers
You always looked like you were wearing a leather jacket,
about to hop into a fast, vintage, red car
with James Dean’s spirit in your back denim pocket
As you exhaled tobacco smoke in rings

So did he

As I drew nearer his eyes were like yours
Like the smooth tigers eye I bought at the gift shop as a kid,
I stroked the stone thinking it’s beauty would lend me good luck
And I called you Tiger sometimes because of that
But I don’t know if you ever knew why

The colours played between deep mahogany, earthy green and the tones in-between
They reminded me of how you are an earth sign and I am a fire sign
My twin blue fires and your tepid earth would converse
and play with one another even when our mouths were too tired to do the talking

I knew I had to take him home

He had scars on his right hand from a bar fight
I wanted to hate it but in my gut,
even the grimiest parts of you I wanted to re-devour

But his voice is hoarser than yours
His kisses are not as slow or as deep
We don’t make love, or even fuck,
We go through the motions
His motions are not yours
He is not you enough

But I keep searching for you anyway
In a freckle, in a glace, even in a scar

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s