treasure

 

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