behaving as the wind behaves
Those words (tattooed on delicate skin, a part of the body favored by him) have been my mantra for so long that i’ve forgotten when exactly i chose them… And yet there it is, like aimless liquid i move too quick to quite fit where i am. I move, invisible, it’s the leaves rustling, water rippling that leaves me seen.
I was just a child then, i say now, just sixteen and scared of so much feeling. So i followed a different course, came to this wide flat plane where i thought i’d be still, but blew round and round like a dust devil…
but where does He come in? He; the ex for whom i mourn profusely. Simply put, once he did, and now he doesn’t.
when, not so long back, an act of whimsy led me back to him (not He) my hands were bound, but upon returning I’ve found ( in and through him) not just wind, but skin… Like a spirit testing possessed bodies I movedcand surged and found connection, but that skin… Well, I left it with him. Disembodied now, noncorporeal before, missing what I never knew I didn’t have.
how do I love?
constantly.
with the passion and terror of some broken god
who, on nights like these, reminds wind of skin
in hopes of comfort, but only brings longing.
it hurts.
give more to me.