Sunday 1 February 2015

Do you?

sometimes i find myself wondering if you remember 
that night your hands spoke more than you'd ever said
do you remember the colour of the sofa with the red cushion 
I hid my face in as your hands spoke to my skin
or that night in the parking lot, the one by the beach, 
the waves crashing as we spoke of stars 
and you kissed me, my fingers caught in your hair
do you remember that morning we cuddled up 
under the memorial to someone long dead 
the sun rising over a lion's head 
granite steps pressed into our spine, cold and unforgiving
or that afternoon on the mountain, clover chains and laughing -
walking on the rail tracks, keeping close 
in case i fell again 
and when i did, your hands spoke again and i listened
distracted by the view and the sound of the oncoming train
i misheard and mistook the words of your hands as the truth of your voice.

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Thank you for taking the time to read and comment. I try to reply to as many as I can either here or by email. <3 LJx