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Few memories of my life
would compare to the beauty
and hopelessness of last night,
close to midnight,
when I loved you.
The willfulness of my surrender
was almost musical. In fact it
reminded me of the bass
notes of Wes Montgomery’s
Bumpin’ on Sunset,
that I settled on the pillows
who heard everything
and saw everything,
that I decided it was
the right moment for tears
and I authorized myself
to shed them
so that you might see,
so that you might hear.
It was as if something
from my heavy inner child
had lifted,
and a wisdom visited me
somewhere, some time
in between those seconds
you first pulled me to you
and the languid minutes we lay
breathing heavily
as if the nocturnal air
was ambrosial and full
of potable magic.

It did not register
in your face, either,
any worry that
something might be wrong.
Your eyes stayed deeply
on me, as if understanding
the poetry of the moment.

I don’t know where
I learned it, but something
with the way our movements
were perfect without
being scripted, something
with the way you could
find your way into me
in the pitch-dark
taught me about timing,
and I did not think twice
about telling you

so I told you and it felt
as natural as rain, and
the silence that followed
did not break my heart or
anything,
it was just silence.
As sweet and precipitous
as your kisses.
.

bow2
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untitled photo of Adriana Lima
.
from the image bookmarking site, Pinterest

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