Humid

It’s cold, it’s dark early, the heater’s broke

I think back on the last day I was content

When we were together in the swamps

No air conditioning, but windows open

Just a ceiling fan and our sweat

Stirred together when we readjusted

From your head on my chest

To my head by yours and

Our legs interlocked, resting from the bike ride

The fan cuts the salt air and seasons us with it

While the breeze through the palm trees

Alleviates the cacophony of thoughts

As your fingernails scratch the spots on my back that I can’t reach

There was no way of knowing how

This is the last time I’ll be happy

With you, myself, circumstances, or even somebody new

A moment in time that is more blurred

With each passing day and

Each passing event that replaces previous memories

Cherished or otherwise

When I look inward, I must look over foggy mountains

And there’s a rainfall that’s bringing a new fog

To cloud these memories

Like how it blinded me for a decade

While the new fog is too dense to notice

The daybreak over the last hills

Before the road ends, where I can make

My final break towards excommunicating myself

But all that has yet to arrive

For now, our curly bedheads

Provide shade from the bright noon

So we can focus on each other’s imperfections

And subsequently ignore them

Your hand in mine, it’ll be a while

Before I feel this peace again

An impassioned kiss goodbye before

Next week alters our histories

Diverting the rivers to different oceans