I Express Myself Through Writing
You would approach me in the kitchen and ask, "May I?" We danced as if we had rhythm. Summer nights we would make our way through the southern comfort of the high woods. "Have I told you I love you?" Every day. You would speed down the country roads in the Chevy while my head would be cropped on the window. Mason jars light our way with fireflies. Our muddy footprints will track us to the patio.
You would grab my waist and cradle me until laughter echoed throughout. We were strengthened by love, weak from passion.
Goosebumps will creak through the cracked window in the middle of the night. We would chatter like children as we stared into each other eyes. The night sky is lit by the shy grace of dawn. You place your uniform on the bedroom bench. I stare at you from under the thin sheet. “I know you’re awake. I can sense your smile from anywhere.” Even though it’s routine, I hate when you leave. My habitual activities feel absent and daunting.
When you’re home, I’ll peak at you from the edge of each doorframe as if you were going to disappear from my sight. “I’m in no hurry. I miss you. May I?” The Band Perry song “If I Die Young” plays in the background. It was always a favorite of ours. My feet are alienated from the hardwood floors when you spin me. “Honey, it’s a small world. And I don’t believe in complete farewells ever.” I hate when the death spirit declared its’ presence in our conversations.
My fingers spin around your tombstone as my bare toes dazzle around the cold marble. "I'm not mourning. He would want us to finish this dance.” I shiver at the sound of silence. The wind would kiss my lips and sway along my waist. I know it’s you being friendly. I lie there alone across the blanket while speaking of nostalgic memories as if you could respond. I hold onto your dog tags as they intertwine with my long bead of pearls. The sun sets behind you. Your laughter still whispers along the high wheat. “Have I told you I love you today?”
You served us well soldier. This isn’t goodbye; I’ll see you soon.
You would grab my waist and cradle me until laughter echoed throughout. We were strengthened by love, weak from passion.
Goosebumps will creak through the cracked window in the middle of the night. We would chatter like children as we stared into each other eyes. The night sky is lit by the shy grace of dawn. You place your uniform on the bedroom bench. I stare at you from under the thin sheet. “I know you’re awake. I can sense your smile from anywhere.” Even though it’s routine, I hate when you leave. My habitual activities feel absent and daunting.
When you’re home, I’ll peak at you from the edge of each doorframe as if you were going to disappear from my sight. “I’m in no hurry. I miss you. May I?” The Band Perry song “If I Die Young” plays in the background. It was always a favorite of ours. My feet are alienated from the hardwood floors when you spin me. “Honey, it’s a small world. And I don’t believe in complete farewells ever.” I hate when the death spirit declared its’ presence in our conversations.
My fingers spin around your tombstone as my bare toes dazzle around the cold marble. "I'm not mourning. He would want us to finish this dance.” I shiver at the sound of silence. The wind would kiss my lips and sway along my waist. I know it’s you being friendly. I lie there alone across the blanket while speaking of nostalgic memories as if you could respond. I hold onto your dog tags as they intertwine with my long bead of pearls. The sun sets behind you. Your laughter still whispers along the high wheat. “Have I told you I love you today?”
You served us well soldier. This isn’t goodbye; I’ll see you soon.
26-30, F