Updated: Aug 2, 2020
She looks into his eyes,
They are black with fleks of brown,
Made visible by the soft touch of the morning sun.
They have just made love,
He holds her in his arms,
And she looks at him with what she hopes is sincere love.
She loves this space,
Post intertwining into one another,
Where there's a brief silence.
Each thinking their own thoughts,
Each being individuals held together as one.
Just a light feather on the heavy weight of life.
She thinks of her lover.
A soft smirk glazes her lips.
'What are you thinking about darling?'
'You, my love.'
Maybe she is thinking about him,
But she's really thinking about her lover.
The first guy she's touched apart from him, after him.
Her leg twitches, she adjusts it.
He's different, more new, more like the new pages of the books she likes to read,
More like the wine she loves to drink before making love.
At first, it was an impulse, a guilty wrong decision.
Now, it is the way of life.
Now the feather's weight is barely discernible.
She still feels the loneliness she felt before.
Even more so,
But now there's someone else to fill it.
Someone who fills a part of the void her husband cannot reach.
He's making little circles in her hair,
She looks at him.
The light is harsh now.
It blinds his eyes into narrowed slits of brown.
She feels the familiar fear grip her.
He reaches out to envelope her face with his palms.
He's never hit her with anything but boredom.
He's never been unfaithful with anything but routine.
He was perfect for her when they met.
Perfect for her when they met
For her when they met
For they met
And just like that,
Like a jumble of words and memories,
Words and emotions twist.
Twist into something comfortable.
Twist into a space where she's herself.
Come love, let me make you some coffee.
Just how she feels,
Just how he thinks she feels.