As The Colours Run (Unfamiliar Ceilings) /prose

Let’s get personal…. (not pg13, kids. You have been warned.)

Written following Holi festival – where coloured powder is thrown during a large celebration.

It’s supposed to sound a little broken in rhythm? Rhyming isn’t usually my thing but it sort of just happened in this one (ha). I don’t know, I’m not entirely satisfied with it, but it was just one of those I needed to get out there.


 

I’m not sure how we arrived here, to this sin.
Naked and laughing, colour streaking skin
The steam on high rise, bright rivulets run
The shower scorching above as our hands come undone.

Our ‘just friends’ lies are weaker.
Carefully constructed lines, cheaper.
Breath hitches
Your hands…

‘We need to stop’
Please don’t stop.

I’m still not sure how we arrived here, to this sin.
From bathroom to bedroom, white covers, stained skin
Gasping against hollow, your neck, collarbone,
Give over the weakness to which we are prone
Your mouth…

‘Don’t start what you can’t finish’
You started me, now finish me-

The hourglass tips
The powder morphs black,
The tide drags my fingers desperately down your back,
Clutching hips, pulse, flow, bite and blood-

Touch me. Turn me.

Send me down in colour and fire
Send me down in waves

’Too much’
Not enough

Send me down –

into the blackest of night where something just snaps
where the tiptoeing and ‘just friends’ facade cracks,
your hips making up for all your words lack-

‘I can’t’
I am

One hand seizes hipbone, the other nape of my neck,
as we ebb, flow and push against our own wreck

I forget how to kiss
I forget how to guard

I can only shudder beneath you,

mind white
just ignite

as the colours run.

IMG_5426

Tonight, at least. /prose

The lights glow dim under canvas walls. Starlight. Memory. We speak soft, talking as we always did, our conversation stretching out into infinities and constellations. This is closer than you and I have been in weeks, but it feels like years, and so I revel in our connection.

Why are you here?

You’re lying next to me as I inhale. Hold. Let it hit. Exhale. The smoke drifts gently up towards the apex of the tent, our feet tucked together into my sleeping bag. Realms open in my mind. I am glowing with those dim lights. Your head angles towards mine. Closer.

Why are you here?

You shift and your forehead is touching mine. The conversation lulls, the axis tilts, the communication shifting into the non-verbal. I sense some second hand ticking quietly away somewhere in your mind. Something in my chest ticks in time with it. We both know what comes next.

Why
are
you
here?

Your hand is on my face
your mouth slants against mine

And god it would be so easy to just kiss you – discard all thought like the stub of the now spent joint, and kiss you

and kiss you
and kiss you

But the question remains:

Why are you here?

Your words proffer no new revelation.

And yet…

It’s in the early hours when I sense it. When the sleeping bag for one has been re-purposed, and the campsite lull has died. The starlight fading, dawn beginning to consider chasing to overtake the night.

One arm slung across me, your front against my back, bodies slotted together. Your nose buries into the nape of my neck, and I feel you inhale. Feel you exhale. Feel you let go. Feel you settle.

In your mind there is also question. And somehow, in this stark morning hour, I am your answer.

Tonight, at least; this is enough.