Sometimes I feel like im 17 again. When my skin fit. When eyes fell softly on me. When my wingspan held the weight of me. When fingerprints grazed but never sat on me. My neck and waist were free of them. When empty was good. Only room to be filled. Nothing to be stolen. Taken. Consumed. This pen of many more pounds just weeks ago. And now, ink and words are pulled out of it. Promise spilling out of it. Every night I wake in between a chain of dreams. I gasp. Or frown. Or sweetly hum. Either way, finding the ground. Grounding myself to the reality I will eventually wake again to. Dream. Wake. Dream. Dream. Wake. And somewhere in between them, you slipped under the sheets. One leg at a time. Half dream. Half reality. A bridge between my two worlds. Hands and feet of butter. A thumb pressed hard and slow down me…along where my hair meets my face. Melts me back to sleep. Finding me with each toss. Finding a fit with each turn. Pull the wall back. Let the light in. I want to see you. A hot breath lays thick on your neck. A sweat climbs to the surface of your back. Sticky and sweet. A heat buried in me….alive again. Awake again. Steam seeps out of me. Wraps us. This night gave me back five years. I saw you once when I was a young girl. When I watched my father’s veins swell. And I watched my mother’s chest sink. And my eyes shut just long enough for me to see you. I saw your hands, but not your face. I saw how you would feel, but not how you would look. Between their yells I heard you whisper something that made sense. Your hands, your voice, gave me back 23 years. The only settling we can speak of now is the way the sea has settled beneath me. The way the tips crashed and spun and now sleep calmly on their sea floor.
Settled. Not settling.
You make me feel 17 again. It’s easy.
-CM
