the morning after
by ella.

for arden.

i can think of nothing
more destructive
than lying here with you--
so immaculate in line and milkbone white
you glow in the shifting patterns of the sun--
your eyes darting behind shut lids
your pulse betraying your stillness
your body rippling with an occassional shudder,
each nerve ending charged
with the imagined sensation of someone--
perhaps her.

i am awkward.
unable to sleep because of your proximity
your shoulder haunts me--luminescent as the moon-
as your back kisses my belly
to the rhythm of your even breath.
this hollow bside you
is not mine (rather, hers).
and i am a poor substitute
to fill it tonight
as you unknowingly wrap your arm around my waist
only to suddenly retract
as if stung by the foreignness of my skin.
there are still scars on your arms--glassy in the light
and i still can remember every yellowing bruise
that stained that unhappy existance
you shared so willingly with her--
i am a mere witness to your aftermath.

i can think of nothing
more destructive
than lying here with you--
you sleep, dreaming of her.
i lie awake, waiting for your return to me.
uncertain.

Literature Section

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