Ficly

Too Many Thoughts For A Coherent Piece

Just you and I,
cutting up strawberries, pineapples, and blackberries
side by side in my mother’s kitchen,
cracking jokes as we mix the fruits together
in a big bowl.
Even the mundane tasks
are enticing with you.

I feel as if I am dying,
the final euphoric moments one
supposedly experiences right before
they pass on.
Perhaps that lingering smile on my lips
is a byproduct of that.

In the stillness of my basement, wrapped up tight
in my old comforter,
you and I lay entwined and content
with your fingers lightly grazing the bare skin
of my arm,
with my lips meeting yours in such a gentle
kiss.

Rain splatters against my windshield
as you and I chat about nothing in
particular, like we’ve been at this
for years.

If only my thoughts alone could
bring you to bed beside me,
so once dawn breaks,
I could groggily roll over and see you
sleeping soundly, your face lacking the careful
composure the day brings, rather the peace
that comes with dreaming abandon.

This story has no comments.