2014-2015, Poem


Featured in the 2014 Fall Issue of Rambunctious

Jack Radford, '16

I woke this morning with my hair
as awry as the magnolia tree 
outside your window
and I missed the sweet smell of flowers that 
drifted tantalizingly in through the screen and 
tickled my nose like the softness of your lips
oh god how I miss your lips,
you were the best kiss I ever had,
your lips moved like a guitar pick on
perfectly tuned strings, 
and it was never too wet or too dry, 
and your tongue traced a map around the backs of my teeth
and left me with the sour taste of lust in my throat

I miss the way your hands would
glide slowly, carefully to find
dimples in my back I didn't know existed
and I'd shiver when you kissed my neck,
but not because it bothered me,
but because it reminded me I was human once again

I used to fake my fear of thunderstorms
just so you'd hold me, just so I could
feel your warmth sink into my skin 
and settle among my bones
I used to cry a lot when you acted cold because
you were the only warmth I knew, you were like my sun
and I couldn't live without you

but I did

I used to cry a lot, but I cry a lot more now,
and I hide under the bed during thunderstorms 
as the whip cracks from above 
shaking the house I can't even call my own
and now I shiver when the wind 
sweeps across my neck, 
but not because I love it, but because I fear it
and when hands other than my own 
touch my skin
I feel my heart pulse 3 times faster 
until it realizes they are not yours.
the smell of flowers makes me want to vomit &
I haven't kissed in a long time, 
my lips are dry, milky, cracked,
they are waiting for you
to bring them back to life,
crawling on singed and charred feet, 
crawling back to you
everything will always crawl back to you.

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