we sleep with the ceiling fan on for the first time. i love it. it feels like childhood summer holidays at the beach and i grow nostalgic for a time where everything is easy and being in love is being in love. i fling off my clothes and lie naked and free and acknowledge my winter-forgotten body with love and tenderness. there are those freckles, and that birthmark and that funny bump. there are the blue veins under translucent skin; the scar that i’d rather forget; another season has aged my limbs; the soft fleshy reminder of my existence holds deeper lines and darker spots.
i am not soul, nor mind, nor thinking writer.
in this moment i am blood and bones and beating heart and i am comfortingly mortal. i am animal. as the buds open and hungrily thirst for the unrelenting rain, so i unfurl my legs and arms and take you into me. you are mine and i am yours and we are everything and we are nothing.