When I am in love I will be jealous of a spoon
Resting between her lips-
Doors, which hold my breath,
(as a captor holds a captive)
Lips, which have the power to
begin me and inevitably,
A spoon resting there,
Caressed by softness and warmth
After the burn of hot tea,
In the afternoon.
When I am in love I will be jealous of a spoon. Poem by J. Grace
I don’t know what to do with this.
I have no tangible thing to keep you in,
no keepsake, no box, no case.
You exist in the space that you left,
void and seared in my memory.
When I close my eyes,
I see the freckles of your back,
constellations and roads I would travel down,
my hands and mouth,
adventures for only you and me.
And now as I lay in the sheets,
(still twisted by your body)
I can almost feel your fingertips
and the warmth of your breath on my neck
Laying in these empty sheets, I realize
You are not here and your absence haunts me.