You fill me with a feeling of complete disorien-
No landmarks tell me where we are;
Yes, I know we are different sides of the same sea.
Static, pixel- faces,
to catch up with your voice.
Never in the right
at the right time
A chance meeting, poorly timed fate
For one forever changing, negotiating, avoiding
It unsettles my stomach;
brings meals for one to my throat,
a dam for salty floodgates.
Then plates move underneath me.
Now my life becomes a Himalayan trek, an obstacle course,
My words, like sherpas, navigate me tentatively
form white arrows on black backgrounds,
airport signage silhouetting
him and her,
compass needles all pointing me back to you.
We are furious shorthand,
a flurry of fingers,
a passionately persistent pressing of buttons and faithful setting of alarm clocks,.
cyber post-its on virtual fridges
‘Back in 5’
Nowhere in particular.
Until we are again;
A knot of arms and legs, one skin, together.
You and me.
The curve of your arm, your spine, your side
warm and inviting.
It peels from mine,
exposing sweet flesh,
Uncanny how we fit,
coincidental pairing from someone else’s dissembling hands.
The touch of soft skin
reddens my lips,
provoking an unexpected thirst.
Hot beads of perspiration slip down my spine,
tracing the path of your fingers,
greeting them with wet kisses.
You twist strands of my hair,
Until you have me wrapped around your finger
you watch it swell
red, then purple, almost blue.
You let the hair loosen
And touch the icy tips to my neck
Then read the goosebumps
That erupt all over my body.
I can feel you smiling at me
Even with my eyes closed.
I can feel your smile touch my lips.
fresh and crisp .
Desire hangs in the air, heavy, ripe, tempting.
Your grip bruises my skin,
You pull me tightly to you,
my thighs constrict around your waist your arms wrap firmly across my back,
I breathe in the acid sweet, scent of my perfume and your cologne,
taste our salty union on your collar bone,
bite into your bottom lip.
You hold my gaze,
culminating in cries and kisses.
Your breath on my neck,
Your weight on my chest
Echoing the steady thump in my breast
counting down our time in paradise.
Guided left and right by the breeze
Oh to be picked for my impressive shape,
or my cartoon cuteness,
I rise as high as I can,
As high as the string will let me
Then I gently tug, give up and bob.
Other balloons get swept up, carried away,
their smiling faces shrinking in the distance
Until only I am left.
I have heard the stories:
Some will be passed on to grubby hands who will,
pound and deflate them,
Others will be allowed to rise to the highest heights of the ceiling
And observe a loving reward for air and plastic,
As they are left to hug and kiss the plaster sky,
a mirror to below,
little do they know there they will stay,
until they wither and are thrown in the trash.
Others will be discarded,
Bit by bit.
Surrounded by high pitched laughter.
In their final moments
the life sucked out of them.
I will hover here on my dirty string.
Not shiny or cute enough
Not the character of the hour,
a wallflower amongst Sponge Bobs and Pepe Le Pews
My heart swells with the immensity of my insignificance.
Taken back or given away to whomever will have me,
Whatever I can get.
But blessings come in disguise,
and as I am no one’s prize
I slip free.
Watched on with indifference,
one less thing to carry home.
I float higher.
My string a comet’s tail floating behind me.
Alone but free.
Towards my own inevitably deflating destiny.