satedMy mouth tastes like sand.

You snatch up the bed sheets as I crawl from beneath your thigh.

I slip into cashmere; you– a coat.

You’re shaving in the kitchen while I sprinkle shallots on the eggs.

Still weary, we walk.

Treading on the cobblestone, seeking coffee, we collapse.

Comfortable, we don’t give up anything.

“Nothing ever comes from an independent cause.”

Family, friends, twenty-four-hour jobs.

Caught within our gravities, we confess.

The young couple on the bench is watching.

You fortify my Americano with a kiss.

Then kindly, we disappear.

You, the inventor, in your docile quest of why.

And me, the writer, always wantonly in love.







85 thoughts on “Sated

  1. The sand from the past dissipates as we fully accept this moment. A threshold for many, as we all evolve into a new way of being … And let go of our earlier purpose 💕

  2. Simply perfect projection of view, I observe that you lead also a “busy” ( not to say stressful time? ) but you seem to cope well, your writing must act as a valve? My Daughter is also moving out for the first time in September. It’s going to be sad I know! (she’s the last of the three! But my Grandchild is there to make up for the vacume. ) Stay strong and keep up the excellent work. Thank you for your thoughts.

    • Hi Luigi Absolutely, writing helps me through tough times and we all have plenty of those, right?
      Sounds like you can relate as well. Thank you for the encouragement, it’s very sweet. You hang in there too! 🙂

  3. By the way the video reminded me of Enya …

  4. I love this, especially the last line.

  5. This poem gave me the shivers. In all beautiful ways. We writers – ALWAYS wantonly in love. With words, with our characters, with life. Just gorgeously melancholic and romantic.

  6. You captured the emotion of the moment beautifully

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