Everymorning

by

Candi Timmerman

Sometimes I dream about the way I used to feel after a long night at your house.
With the tiny bite mark bruises on my neck and shoulders and your smell in my hair. I’d get into the shower, deliciously sore, and use your shampoo and smile into the water as it washed away the remnants of the night’s messy love.
It was such a peaceful feeling to know that you were sleeping that content sleep in the next room, still with your hair all messy and the sheets crumpled in the floor.
I’d brush my hair and teeth and crawl back into bed beside you. But now?
Now I wake up alone.
I still sleep naked or in your shirt out of habit. Yet I no longer feel your roughsmooth hands on my body, love and worshipping every inch. I listen to the sound of sadness floating from my radio_songs we used to dance to- now I lie here and ponder double meaning in the lyrics. I rise and walk to my own shower to use my own shampoo, brush my teeth and hair and go back into my cold empty room and sit on my bed and stare at the place where you should be. I go and get my chamomile tea and almost pour you a cup_but catch myself just in time to save me that sharp sliver of pain I always feel when I pass too close to a memory of you.
I go and stare out a window and wonder what’s the point?

I just have to do the same shit all over again tomorrow.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at IS PEACE DEAD HERE?
by: Sailen Chandra Sadhu
from: London, England, UK

To visit all of Candi Timmerman's poems, click HERE

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