Lion Man

My nights are spent chasing away trace thoughts of you. How your body smelled like hard work and your breathing shook my down pillows. How I’d set my alarm an extra thirty minutes earlier to wake you myself with my softness and exaggerated hips, opting out of your jolt from the warm covers. A goddamn nuclear reactor breakdown, I called your alarm.

It’s in these nights when I replay the words I’d whisper to you after you fell asleep, rereading the confessions like mantra I found tucked away on notes I hadn’t yet left; that in spite of it all I hope you live a life filled with so much happiness that the broken bits of you become sealed with so much goodness you forget what it felt like to be broken. I hope you remember me wearing that black dress curled up against you in the sand, watching the sun set over the sea.

You probably didn’t keep those notes, and that’s fine by me, because the words were spoken and that’s all that matters. And I know I’m still there in your mind. You’d pride yourself on your ability to cut ties quickly, ruthlessly, and my pride foolishly gave me an exemption. And I’ve swallowed it hard with my head held high, albeit bitterly and bruised, because I never asked for any of it.

You’d asked to read my writing. And here it is, just for you, oh mighty lion. Bet you never knew how sweetly a scorpion could sting.

Lovers Key State Park, Florida. December 2017. Original photo.

Originally written December 2 2017, on the beach at Lovers Key. 

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