On your bare skin.
Paint thick and cool on my fingers;
The way I could glide easily,
Colours contrasting against your body;
I was lost in amongst the two,
As I turned you into art.
Wildflowers between the raindrops
Last two days these words have come back to haunt me.
Each RT and like a reminder of you,
A reminder you’re now missing.
You were my muse.
For years you were in every word I wrote,
You gave them a heart.
Showed me how to look for the layers.
And you’ll probably still be in there,
Because you’re habit now.
You were a match,
But I’m burning on my own now.
And for that I’m grateful.
I dreamt of you last night,
But I can’t tell you that any more.
So I’ll pin it here as a post-it-note.
That moment, when you catch a glance in their review mirror. Then a longer look. And you both set off from the lights with that smile. You know the one. Him a little faster to see if you want to keep up. Can keep up. A flirty drive. Passing and being passed. Feeling the bite as you accelerate up through the gears. Sitting on such power and guiding it with your hands. Windows open, hair tugging and being whipped but you don’t care. And you won’t care when you stop and it’s a tangled mess.
Today I miss him.
Waves of sadness flooding me.
So it’s slow, smokey music,
And I’m scrubbing my house clean.