Quantcast
Channel: Writings for Winter
Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 19688

today i thought of you at 3 am

$
0
0

I am moving to New York City in the spring.

Yesterday, when I sat stoned in your bed at dusk,

the cicadas rubbed their wings against one another

so hard I was surprised it didn’t generate a current

of electricity from your body to mine. Forgive me

for trying to describe rain and only coming up

with an image of the back of your neck, that hollow

full of warmth when the nights are colder than an igloo,

forgive me for cutting all my hair off when you broke up

with me for the first time; an ancient Asian custom

said that women were supposed to chop it off

in order to forget the past and start fresh.

I’ve only seen my new apartment over Skype,

and I imagine sitting on the balcony over the city lights

with a view of Carnegie Hall from my bedroom,

imagining my grandmother as a ballerina

her ashes still dancing in a tutu over the stage.

Because I already miss you, I’ve slept with my pillow

in my arms every night for the last two weeks,

pretending its softness is the curve of your back.

If kisses were apologies, I would be the sorriest person

you’d ever seen.


Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 19688

Trending Articles