57/365
January 3-
I don’t know if it was all the history:
all the artists from hundreds of countries and time periods,
all the religion and mythology and imaginary and abstract,
all the colors and strokes and worn canvases.
Or if it was where we snuck into
a dark room of ancient medieval treasury
to relieve ourselves with each other
through the meeting of our lips.
Perhaps it was when I stood
with my head slightly resting
on your shoulder, and quietly
explained the way the horrified
faces of the ballerinas struck
some ticking place in me.
But whatever it was still courses
through me when I want to hear more
of your voice/touch more of your skin.
That soft hum, those have-we-
been-here-before chills down my spine,
the way I could feel into a future
where you still stood
next to me.
#words #write every day #365
