The Body remembers

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

Last night I dreamed the best romance

Lovers in their most beautiful era

Taut bodies yearning and reaching for the other

Electric charges in their fingertips —

My fingertips.

Prickled and full.

I think he waited this time because she promised to stay —

She never did that before.

They uttered words in urgency that sensuously landed just where you’d expect .

And then!

An epic scene where he watched her

walk

away —

Only allowed it because he knew she’d be back.

The door clicked as he tossed aside the rumpled sheets and headed to the shower.

But then I woke up

and forgot it all —

she never got a the chance to keep her word.

God damn it

I forgot.

So instead of a romance novel

(A best-seller at that)

I am left with this

poem of impressions that don’t quite capture the intimacy I intend.

But they say the body remembers —

I know it remembers trauma because every July I get tense and anxious for a full week

I carry that weight of memory around like Sisyphus (minus the chiseled abs)

Even when I don’t realize the date —

even 23 years later.

So maybe it can remember ecstasy as well?

not for 23 years though.

(Maybe).