I heard more than you ever intended to say
but then
why that tone of voice,
why that facial expression
and why did you slide your hands
from my thighs to my waist
as though you were gathering a posy
of wildflowers?
In a sentence intended to beguile,
and you succeeded,
I heard each word exactly,
each as a separate truth,
the whole as a synergy.
I had no choice but to hear the layers,
the connotations.
How could I not hear you say ‘love’
without adding to it the gentle, warm pressure
of your hands on my skin?
And when you said ‘you’
I believed you knew me.
How could I not when your eyes
were caressing the contours of my soul
and you held me still
beyond desire to flee
simply by locking your sight
to mine?
In that room,
in that chair,
in that moment
nothing else existed
but you and I
and the twined beat
of our hearts.
I find textures amongst your words
smooth softness, rough urgency,
a silken desire and a deep well of consequence.
I taste fire and satin,
stones and rivers, waterfalls and summer rain
in your tone of voice
and I hear echoes of your past,
dreams of impossible possibilities
and a future of laughter, difficult joy, easy pain,
a treasure trove of learning
I hear that
in the exquisite whisper of your skin
sliding into mine.
Even at face value
you had the Midas touch.
Did I hear more than you intended to say?
Did you give away more than you meant to
or is everything you are
merely a means to an end?
To what end, sweetheart?
We are here
and now
and there’s no guarantee of an afterlife.
You can’t take back a gift of yourself
although I’ve seen you try.
Understand that
even though you handed yourself over
as a map
as a series of signposts
to desire fulfilled, happiness embodied
you are all of the paths there
and the destination itself.
You gave me directions
to find you
and now you’re saying
you’ve changed your address.
6:02pm Monday
23.June.2003

© Melinda Chambers. All posts are the creation of the author and, as such, remain the author's property with all rights reserved.

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