I missed you this morning. It snowed, and I found a quiet ache for you
Wrapping itself around my shoulders.
Not the hot, sharp longing of new lovers,
But a soft want for your arms around my waist
Your face buried in that place where my shoulder
Becomes my neck.
A quiet ache.
I wanted to pull you on like a sweater
Knitted from all the time we’ve weathered together,
Each purled row, each knitted truce;
Uneven, gorgeous stitches creating the strongest cloth I know.
And though we each held a needle,
The wool held some fault
Spun of unintentions and
Kindle me now, love.
Stuttering romance, tiptoed words,
Relearning the language of intimacy
Too long, darkness.
This abstinence of honey leaves me parched.
A little something I wrote a month or so ago, but lost it when my hard drive was wiped. This version is based off what I can remember.
© Emily Bragg 2013