Sometimes old fashioned words work the best.
In the morning, you are wearing your soft
paisley robe and I tell you
I adore you. You take my hand
and gently kiss my palm.
Last night we drank old fashioneds.
We had stayed in bed all afternoon
then after a walk, made supper
and I drank too much
and my body wouldn’t respond to yours
and I felt ashamed.
You wrapped me in your arms
and kissed my back.
I know things in my body that
you don’t say but I still know them.
An old fashioned way, like my parents
generation, saying less,
living in the unsaid.
Why the fuck can’t I just trust that?
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