When the sun splits the sky open
And blue spills out
Splashes onto rooftops
When the train windows are big enough that you can watch the fields running into each other
And you are running too
The clouds whisper
You sing, badly, and it doesn't matter
How could I possibly not be in love
With this world, with you
Can you ever really know?
But
There was that one moment
Bundled under heavy duvets
Snow floating outside, honestly like a fairytale
Somewhere far from home
It was meant to be romantic, I think
He tried really hard
He really tried
Tongue wet and insistent
On capturing my attention
Clumsy and awkward and somehow knowing -
A trespass
I noticed myself, hollow
I said, that was really good
He was kind enough (or, not kind enough)
To brush past the lie
Open curtains
Brewed kettle
Straightened sheets
The small board hanging overhead tells you the next train to High Barnet is in 3 minutes
You’re standing on the platform, hands lingering, ghosting the edge of an elbow, hip
Moments caught snuck in between respectable and not -
It hangs in the air between you
Taut
A press
Closer
A charge, negative-positive
Your cells sing
You stand on this platform every day
It is so familiar
The mould on the staircase, the winding steps
The screech of the tube as it pulls into the tracks -
And it collapses,
Breath on cheekbone, the soft part of the neck that meets the ear, an animal whine,
Involuntary
The alarm of the tube doors as they clamp shut, sealing you away
You are seeking seeking seeking
You are sure
Of something
In your chest
And then
You are in his bed
And there is the crossing of a line
Touch that cannot be misconstrued as accidental
The yellow of a sunflower petal, sharp and velvet, same as the sun coloured in the corner of a crayon picture
The flutter of wings, wind caught in the tips
A kind of freedom
To no longer be constrained by the cookie cutter form that you entered the door in
And in the absence of that tight edge you are allowed
To melt into another
Shape form way to exist
It is a thrum, vibrations through your teeth
Tentative, shaking like the knees of a newborn calf
You want to pat its flank, stroke its cheek, marvel at the instinct
Your fingers trace freckles, count stars,
Touch lips chin collarbone sternum
Whisper
Found
