v i n e
outta my way, son! door stuck!
summer came early this year. it brought with it a sweltering heat, whispering on my flesh that i was in love.
the feeling clung to me, a tightness in my chest that had grown so large inside me that i could no longer bare it. loneliness left me whimpering, wounded; through empty streets i wandered, frightened and mad with love.
when my eyes were closed i could see him beside me, the tenderness of his body, taking refuge under my eyelids. in the weeks between his letters i prayed, and many nights i did not know if it was a god or him that i was praying to.
by august i was entirely numb. i starved for him; my throat dry, the memory of his scent haunted me. the present seemed to weigh heavy on my heart, yearning.
the moon was nearly full on the night i left-- all others in the city were asleep, and it was only the stars that witnessed my parting. on sleepless feet i tried to remember the feeling of his hands on my skin.
i do not know how long i walked. it could have been hours, perhaps days or weeks; even if it had been years i know not a single moment of it was wasted.
i came to know the light of sunrise better than my own voice, and in the deep yellow of morning i first saw him. suddenly he seemed so near to me, and at the sight of him across the wheat fields i wept.
he was so still there, looking out across the land, that if you had told me the soft folds of his clothing were stone i would have believed you. i would have mistaken him as an altar, the grasses at his feet the earth’s gift to his being.
i had been baptized, purified by the sun, desire cleansing me. in that moment i was innocent, reckless; bounding towards him.
he turned to me, and it was as if i was kneeling in the chantry, beholden to him, his face. we were in the space between the earth and the stars.
i felt his hands curling around my back, breath clinging to my skin. the folds of my coat pooled in the narrow divisions between his fingers.
truly, it was as if we had always been like this. weariness seemed far away, imagined.
hands came to cup my face, and like dawn, my cheeks reddened. longing vanished, tenderness closing the gaps in my heart that hope could not fill.
in the wake of his touch my bruises healed. the past began to feel like a dream, and from that moment i knew where i wanted to be buried.
in the clear light of september he told me how much he loved me. together we stepped into the fields, satiated.
summer came early this year. it brought with it restlessness, a sweet kind of awakening. i had been sleeping, then, but now i am awake-- new.
the feeling clung to me, a tightness in my chest that had grown so large inside me that i could no longer bare it. loneliness left me whimpering, wounded; through empty streets i wandered, frightened and mad with love.
when my eyes were closed i could see him beside me, the tenderness of his body, taking refuge under my eyelids. in the weeks between his letters i prayed, and many nights i did not know if it was a god or him that i was praying to.
by august i was entirely numb. i starved for him; my throat dry, the memory of his scent haunted me. the present seemed to weigh heavy on my heart, yearning.
the moon was nearly full on the night i left-- all others in the city were asleep, and it was only the stars that witnessed my parting. on sleepless feet i tried to remember the feeling of his hands on my skin.
i do not know how long i walked. it could have been hours, perhaps days or weeks; even if it had been years i know not a single moment of it was wasted.
i came to know the light of sunrise better than my own voice, and in the deep yellow of morning i first saw him. suddenly he seemed so near to me, and at the sight of him across the wheat fields i wept.
he was so still there, looking out across the land, that if you had told me the soft folds of his clothing were stone i would have believed you. i would have mistaken him as an altar, the grasses at his feet the earth’s gift to his being.
i had been baptized, purified by the sun, desire cleansing me. in that moment i was innocent, reckless; bounding towards him.
he turned to me, and it was as if i was kneeling in the chantry, beholden to him, his face. we were in the space between the earth and the stars.
i felt his hands curling around my back, breath clinging to my skin. the folds of my coat pooled in the narrow divisions between his fingers.
truly, it was as if we had always been like this. weariness seemed far away, imagined.
hands came to cup my face, and like dawn, my cheeks reddened. longing vanished, tenderness closing the gaps in my heart that hope could not fill.
in the wake of his touch my bruises healed. the past began to feel like a dream, and from that moment i knew where i wanted to be buried.
in the clear light of september he told me how much he loved me. together we stepped into the fields, satiated.
summer came early this year. it brought with it restlessness, a sweet kind of awakening. i had been sleeping, then, but now i am awake-- new.
