What I Will Say When I Say Good-bye
If I can't stay where I am, and I can't, then I will put all that I can into the going.
Jeanette Winterson
I will tell you that you were wrong.
You were wrong to think you wouldn't feel me down to the marrow of your bones.
You made love to me last night like a wolf that had starved all Winter. That's how you always made love to me. As though you were starved and I suppose you were.
The high ceilings of our loft held our laughter, our teasing, our moments of passion. Over and over we met here. Sometimes planned. Sometimes not at all. You would just be here and I could open the door and fall into your arms and you would rage inside my body like a cyclone swallowing up everything in its path. Urgent and furious.
Lipstick stains on my wine glass. The wine glass that sits in front of the hearth and it's cooling embers in the early light of morning. Echoes of the night before dying in the cold stone.
You will wake in an hour or so, buttoning up your jeans and leaving behind the rumpled sheets of our bed. Making your way out the door to begin your day. Wondering where I got off to but not terribly worried. You only regret that I wasn't here to whip up that omelet I promised. You will slip on your shoes, content...feeling alive and satiated. Grateful for my body and it's provenance.
I take the key to this loft off of my key ring. For so many seasons this key was my talisman. The representation of a prize I thought I'd won.
I place my lips on the key and bid it and you a farewell...leaving it by the lipstick-stained wine glass.
Forever I loved you. Forever it seems.
I will tell you that you were wrong.
You are wrong to think you won't miss me down to the marrow of your bones.
CJ Ellis
You were wrong to think you wouldn't feel me down to the marrow of your bones.
You made love to me last night like a wolf that had starved all Winter. That's how you always made love to me. As though you were starved and I suppose you were.
The high ceilings of our loft held our laughter, our teasing, our moments of passion. Over and over we met here. Sometimes planned. Sometimes not at all. You would just be here and I could open the door and fall into your arms and you would rage inside my body like a cyclone swallowing up everything in its path. Urgent and furious.
Lipstick stains on my wine glass. The wine glass that sits in front of the hearth and it's cooling embers in the early light of morning. Echoes of the night before dying in the cold stone.
You will wake in an hour or so, buttoning up your jeans and leaving behind the rumpled sheets of our bed. Making your way out the door to begin your day. Wondering where I got off to but not terribly worried. You only regret that I wasn't here to whip up that omelet I promised. You will slip on your shoes, content...feeling alive and satiated. Grateful for my body and it's provenance.
I take the key to this loft off of my key ring. For so many seasons this key was my talisman. The representation of a prize I thought I'd won.
I place my lips on the key and bid it and you a farewell...leaving it by the lipstick-stained wine glass.
Forever I loved you. Forever it seems.
I will tell you that you were wrong.
You are wrong to think you won't miss me down to the marrow of your bones.
CJ Ellis
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