Missing someone is like hearing
a name sung quietly from somewhere
behind you. Even after you know
no one is there, you keep looking back
until on a silver afternoon like this
you find yourself breathing just enough
to make a small dent in the air….
I remember holding you against the sink,
with the sun soaking the window, the soft call
of your hips, and the intricate flickers
of thought chiming your eyes. Your mouth,
like a Saturday. I remember your
long thighs, how they
opened on the sofa, and the pulse
of your cry when you came, and
sometimes I miss you
the way someone drowning
remembers the air.
— Excerpt from “Slow Dance,” Tim Seibles (via commovente)
If I will never wake up anymore, I want you to know that I died happy (knowing that you are my last).
If this all goes wrong,
I just need you to know that it’s okay.
We agreed, sink or swim,
and I’m just happy that we made it to the water.
but she didn’t need to ask me to. Because I will.