Love Grown Old
At night...
I feel your breath, warm
on the back of my neck
your chest is moving
against my back.
My breath falls
into the rhythm
of yours, slowing
and deepening
as we fall asleep.
In the morning...
my head on your shoulder,
still sleeping,
I feel your breath
quickening, stirring
my tousled hair.
Your arm tightens
sleepily around me.
Your awakening
stirs my breath.
My heart beats faster
as we waken.
All of the nights...
all of the years...
breathing together
sleeping and wakening—
If you were not here
would I be able to breathe?
© 2006 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.
I feel your breath, warm
on the back of my neck
your chest is moving
against my back.
My breath falls
into the rhythm
of yours, slowing
and deepening
as we fall asleep.
In the morning...
my head on your shoulder,
still sleeping,
I feel your breath
quickening, stirring
my tousled hair.
Your arm tightens
sleepily around me.
Your awakening
stirs my breath.
My heart beats faster
as we waken.
All of the nights...
all of the years...
breathing together
sleeping and wakening—
If you were not here
would I be able to breathe?
© 2006 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.
posted by Jesa | 12:37 AM
3 Comments:
That is absolutely beautiful!
Kestrel.
Wonderful. This poem ripples along my skin like cool rain. Just stunning.
Your poetry is so beautiful. It strips away the thin layer of civilization and leads back to a more primal time; to our more primal selves.
It makes us remember.
Cheryl
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