In the last hour,
I only thought about you
(and a half)
Twice, I though of your legs – a skirt flowing around your thighs, or when they’re clad in jeans or just soft glowing skin (god). The way your knees touch when you’re in the car
-but then I stopped thinking of your legs, the shape of your thighs, the curve of the back of your knee – because my attention slips quickly, quietly to the bend of your spine and down your backside – and I get so easily distracted there, so I try not to think too often of your lovely legs.
Three times, I thought of your luminous smile, the way your cheek feels like silk, like velvet, like ice cream melting against my lips.
Once I thought about twirling you on a dance floor, leading you in a turn, your hand in mine, circling around each other until we come back together and I can kiss you as I hold you close and dip you low.
Twice, I though about the curve of your hips, the bone of your pelvis and how it fits next to mine like puzzle pieces, like the cap of a pen clicking onto the barrel.
Once, I thought of that look you give me from across the room, which says “take me, I’m yours and I love you and I wish you were in my arms and I want to feel you everywhere” (or maybe that’s just what my look said) and it makes me want to jump, dive, claw my way over to you, pushing the air out of the way so I can taste you, put my hands on your skin, hear you gasp, breathe into my ear, feel you tremble and pull me closer.
Once, I thought of the way your fingertips feel on my thigh or the small of my back, and the way you leave them there while we sit with friends.
Twice, I thought of that way you laugh when you’re nervous, halted and slow, while your eyes dance, searching for something you can recognize.
Once I visualized you in a rocking chair, a homemade afghan wrapped around the baby you are cradling, cooing soft syllables, and then you look up at me, almost in awe of the beauty of the creature in your arms, our baby, our new love – I’m not quite sure what it was, but you looked at me and I wanted to lasso the moon for you. I wanted to sing to you, wanted to see that look again and again – what can I do to possibly get you to look at me like that; I would do anything.
Then I thought of all the things I’ve said to you, all the ways I want to tell you I adore you, I desire you, I want to know you, to hold you, to watch you grow. I want to hold my hands like stirrups so you can step in, hands on my shoulders so you’ll be able to reach that windowsill two floors up – and that was maybe more about me, but half about you too, because you’re holding your own and you’re holding me and we match, blend, mix together, two very different colors coming together to form a brand new paint for the walls – a brand new color together.
and a half
isn’t very many
considering how many hours
your melodic voice
your sweet smile,
your raw insights
have taken flight,
inside my canopies
settling in hour after hour