My head on the pillow
Things have been unremarkable as always. Valentine’s day was nice, I remembered how much I love cooking (and how good at it i can sometimes be) and very nearly saw Leila dance again… Too sleepy, though, gave up too early and went home. Hopefully I will make up for it at the next one.
Been seeing lots of friends, working very little, and doing very little studying. Will it come back to bite me? Likely. Do I care now? Doubtful.
Slight ankles slip
Serene through salted water,
Quick flitting over sand and shell,
She, sweet, steps deep
Sea surf surges at hips, breasts, knees
She, swift, swims with tide, wave, body
Treads water only. Strains,
Suppressed, slips strengthless back
Sand scrapes knees, legs, skin.
Stranded.
Spat out. Shunned.
She, sullen, slinks shamed
Seeks something soft, simple, stoic.
Salt still slick on skin,
Settles into sleepy stream
That sluices over stones,
She sifts fingers through stale, slow, indifferent stream,
Wants, wanting, wants.
This isn’t the only way I know to say these things, anymore, but it’s the only way they feel true.