An Understanding of Sorts
She knows he always tastes like sorrow, honor, and alcohol
she shouldn’t, maybe, still she lets him stay awhile
bites his lip and whispers silly things to make him smile
he knows her like no one has since the day she forgot what faith was
vulnerable
She laughs because she knows that somehow
it doesn’t matter
nothing matters here
or maybe
nothing means everything anymore
maybe he’ll come back again
maybe she’ll let him in again
the night stretching out beneath the warmth of her fingertips
he’ll smile at her, certain in that moment that he possesses her completely
and he might not even be wrong
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Filed under: poetry, writing Tagged: | faith, life, loss, love, poetry, prose, relationships, sex
