Saturday, September 16, 2017

Like Her Favorite Hoodie


Photo by Alex Jodoin on Unsplash

She smelled of wild roses after the rain.
Especially on sunny days. 
They were only together when it was natural to be so. 
There was never talk of expectations. 
No relationship agreements, promises, or commitments. 
They enjoyed each other and the solitude. 
He was an artist without much financial success 
and she made movies, 
modeled for commercials and swimsuit magazines.
 He would laugh when his friends would say 
"What does she see in him." 
He felt accomplished 
in that he'd learned to dance 
with what the universe brought. 
She liked for him to read to her. 
He read the verses she loved the most. 
Recited classics and those she'd inspired. 
He didn't crave the limelight or approval. 
Cared little for awards, status, and recognition. 
He only wanted to belong,  feel at home with her alone, 
and be great at something. 
She just got him 
it was nothing he deserved. 
She was happy and at peace. 
Something chemical or quantum. 
Mysterious at least. 
They were a higher power. 
She felt like Scarborough Fair 
mashed up with classic Hip Hop 
with an ounce of country lyrics. 
Clearly, she could hear his soul. 
She purred in cuddle times, 
wrote her own lines, 
designed a life for them together. 
They were needless poetry. 
Forever was written in them.