Another moment of Marla
The spring is an awful time to feel lonely
Summer keeps sending me postcards in hopes that I’ll visit.
Teasing my skin from afar with its August shimmer dancing on pulse.
I miss sitting with my limbs tangled in yours. I remember being amazing by you - everything curious and different…entrancing.
I think something I miss more than I’ll admit, is how much I imagined our future.
Walking through the city, our fingers laced together, making our palms kiss.
Not caring about the time and stealing kisses on street corners. Spooning our bodies in rocking, rattling subway cars and making faces at each other in window shop reflections.
Eating pizza with abandon and lying dazed and indolent on benches in Central Park. Riding busses and bringing you food. Drinking till everything was funny and charming and bohemian.
Feeling the heat of your hands on my cheeks and being yours with reckless abandon. Anything except that is just not an option…
Which is why I still feel the ghost of you everywhere I look. Everywhere I walk. Everywhere I think we’d go. I miss you and the dream of us.
