Poetry
Photo by Amir Azari on Unsplash
I Gave Him Water
I was sweating
through the dress
I had picked for someone else.
The club was closing.
The air thick
with spilled gin,
with wet skin on worn couches,
with lime peeling off the floor.
A glass broke
and no one turned.
He stood still
like he stepped outside the song
and was held by the night.
I reached for the bottle
opened it,
passed it to him
without touching.
Still, I felt touched.
He drank slowly
as if his mouth
had been waiting
to be filled
then gave it back.
I drank where his mouth had been
not out of thirst
but to know him
in a way
no one else could see.
I passed it again
still wet
with silence between us.
He looked at me
like he knew
I was offering more than water
but said nothing.
The bottle still warm in my hand.
Your Photo
I saw your face today.
Polo, grass, sun
like nothing ever happened.
I cried right there,
scrolling
remembering
all the times we rode,
the wind against your face
your smile
when you said
always and forever.
Now I sit
in a circle of strangers,
old friends I once laughed with.
I search for my reflection
but find only her
a woman in the corner
who doesn’t know my name.
Water pours across the field
dragging me back
into a body too heavy for shore.
I press Unfollow.
Water rises over my face.
My feet
barely
in the sand.
The Saddle
The wedding we never had
still waits for me
out by the stables.
A horse runs
with you on its back
carrying the promise
of a ride
into forever.
Now my saddle hangs alone
as I wait for the rider
who will never return.