Sleepless nights

And early morning walks.

Empty streets

Filled with a new day’s air.

It’s starting to feel like

Summer again.

Heavy winds through closed windows.

Warm air across the departing skin.

Quiet bedrooms; meager ventilation.

Chamomile tea against mint and tongue.

Candlelit shadows dancing among darkness.

It’s supposed to rain tomorrow night.

But you’ll be working.

And I’ll be sleeping.

We’ll be apart.

Dreaming of easy.

There is not a single place

Where I can safely spill

The words strung into

Thoughts that keep

Me awake at

Night.

It’s a really surreal feeling to emerge yourself into this light, just barely able to felt texture, but to feel yourself become weightless and almost effortlessly graceful. And only lit by a single candle, hardly able to see your skin, but able to feel it, and to trace familiar lines that make up your own body. To lie there, absolutely still, but to  move along with the motion of the water, slightly swaying your seemingly weightless body side to side. And then, to lay on a cold tile floor, motionless, again, becoming fully aware of the temperature difference between skin and floor, feeling bubbles dry and disappear like friends you hardly knew. And to feel your heartbeat without touching your chest; to feel it pound and knock at the wall of your chest, faster, and then slower, to the pace of your breathing, which is just barely audible. It’s amazing. The simplicity in the ways of bodies of water and bodies of human beings, together. It’s almost surreal.