As I lay awake under the covers, fingers reaching out
toward empty spaces, sweat crawling up from the small of my back,
infecting my mind with restless thoughts of days when we were still
young and unclaimed by scars softly sleeping under our skin
I remember the wild, passionate nights of drinking
just a little bit too much, skipping classes to take
afternoon naps, cups of coffee while you talked too much
and I said so little, hanging out with your friends and
ignoring mine, because I couldn’t stand not to be around you.
I remember the shirts I bought for you and tried to steal back,
after you’d made me cry again and I’d pushed your temper too far.
I remember watching Troy and how you asked me if Brad Pitt was more
attractive than you, and when I jokingly said yes, the kisses
you left burning on my neck, punishing me. I remember
dancing naked and taking road trips that left me lonely in the
backseat, I remember the way you’d tell me you needed me
in a mumbled, disbelieving voice and the rough, frantic touching
and the urgent back and forth of two people fighting
falling in love but not succeeding.
I remember those anxious moments as I lay awake
under the covers, nostalgic for the feral days
of new love, but then I hear the door click open quietly,
and the familiar fall of your footsteps bringing you to bed,
bringing you home to me
and when you slide into the warmth, fitting your body into
the space that I left for you, reaching for me with the
certainty of being loved in return, I know that this
is better than that
before, you were an exciting improbability, just
the possibility of what you are now.
this is the culmination,
the forever sleep, the leaving hand in hand,
the knowledge that we no longer dream alone.
Author: Chelsea Griffin
Editor: Travis May
Photo: Flickr/Sam Caplat