Thursday, February 22, 2018


“I know what you like my love, I’ve always known.”

His body seems familiar, as do his lips as do his words. We are a tangle in sheets Trying work out between each other how this has become so familiar in so short an amount of time.

“I love you.”

“I know. You always loved me, we were always in love, don’t you remember?”

We are solid beings thinking about time and memory. We have been here before, in this place, in this time. We drank wine after a long day together, as we had always done, as we will do again in the future. We placed our bodies close and I rested my head on his shoulder in that old familiar comfort that I knew, I had always known, I would always know.

We are at a moment in time that is an intersection of all the universes, totality of things. In this timeline we remember each other so well, the laughter we shared, the jokes that were as familiar to us as old shoes. We slipped into the quiet routine of old friends and lovers in minutes.
But it wasn’t old, it was eternal. It was the always now and the always had been and the always will be. The ascension of all the perfect moments in the cycling loop of the variety totality.

A hand in my hair, that knowing touch of his flesh on mine, his body tastes as I always remembered it tasting, his fingers moved as they always move, knowing where to find the spots that make the reaction that much more powerful to me, that moment of the in-between time is complete lost and we are bound and we are bonded and we are who we were always going to be together.

I see fluidly down the timelines of our hands and our hair and our touch intertwined, my chin burns from the scruff of his chin, my lips red and raw and aching from kiss and suck and sup and sensation that has overwhelmed all things.

I see in this timeline all the things we create together: we are lovers and artists, we make music together, and laugh and explain words while he studies, he teaches me French, I cry in his lap, we have fights and plan for the future, a home, we share a life, and all the infinite wondrous moments of the life.

I cry out, small sound in the night, as we move about in bed.

“Did I hurt you, my love?”

“You always hurt me.”

“I know. I tried not to this time.”

Only time.

“Pain was always pleasure.”

“Your pleasure, our pleasure. I missed you.”

“I missed you.”

“I always knew you were there.”

“Of course, I was. We only just lost ourselves for the moment but we have always been here. We are still here. We stay together, you remember. I remember it now.”

“Yes, but not without heartbreak.”

“It was sad, that time.”

“But it was happy, too. There were the happy times.”

“Yes, there was that as well. It was always in motion.”

“In motion.”


“In movement.”

“You’re losing yourself again, you know. Like you did the last time.”

“But remember I found myself, too. I never get lost for long.”

“Of course, my love.”

We are entangled and in touch and in darkness and in motion and emotion…

“Did I wake you, my love.”

“No, I was awake. You being here, being now, it brought me back.”

“I’m never leaving.”

“You are always leaving.”

“But it never mattered.”

“It always mattered.”

“I will miss you my love.”

“Of course, but we always miss each other.”

We embrace at a door and the rain is pouring down and I am going to work and I am looking into his eyes and we kiss.

“I meant it all, you know, every word.”

“You always meant it.”

“It means everything.”

“And nothing.”

“I love you.”

“Of course.”

I turn and put my bag in a car. Looking away for a moment. I look up, back to where he was,, where he is, where he had always been.

Now, nothing but the stairs and the rain.

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