Week 43

The bed was wet
When we laid down on it
Concave and a mix of colours.
Your skin was warm
And tasted like salt and earth,
I had missed it the few days I was away.

It was early summer
And frost still filled the trees
And in our cocoon,
I was warm and alive
Out of it, I ran a little too cold
And a little too hot.

I still see your eyes
And your nose
And the way your lips part
When you lean in to kiss me.

Every day I ask if you still love me,
Maybe I won't today.
Maybe I'll trust to see it in the way
You grasp my fingers
And kiss my hips,
in the way you talk about our children,
the ones still unborn.
I'll nestle into this cocoon,
place my lips along your neck
and let the salt and earth coat them.