To Begin Again
The wrinkled pages of my calendar flutter to the floor, a ground chilled by the crisp February weather. I gaze at the photos of you posted around my room and ponder the true meaning of the word ‘hiatus.’ My skin is so lonely, lacking contact except for that one football game when burgundy and ginger streaks left their marks on my hands, my arms, my cheeks. “War Song” plays softly through my old stereo, and my eyes well up with tears as I wonder if all goodbyes are meant to be broken and raw.
But I see us sitting in the dunes as fireball rays pelt down, my fingers will interlock with yours like an old skyline puzzle. You will inhale the salt air and allow it to soak into your skin. My rebellious, windblown hair will be tucked behind my ear and you will place my chin in your tender hand. Your limbs will envelop me into a bundle of tanned skin. I will lean into your chest and you will draw me closer, and your glacier eyes will secure my own lakes once again.