When I awoke. (by Kirsten Fitrell)

When I awoke

I woke up this morning in the fetal position,
arms clasped tightly around my knees
as if subconsciously pulling my body
back in upon itself.

I try to wash you away,
But with the strength of molasses,
Strong, sticky sweet and bitter,
You cling to the parts of me
I cannot see.

I understand...

I ought to strip the sheets
the moment you withdraw.

I know I should.

But, instead,
I guiltily cover the bed up,
rushing to trap your heat inside,
smoothing down the comforter,
shrouding the pillow beneath.

All so I might burrow
my face in the scent of you
for one more night.

(Kirsten Fitrell is a writer and photographer in Washington DC.)

Comments

[Satia]

I'm sure I am not alone in saying that I recognize this as an experience I might have had but which I could never have put into these perfect words.

[elyssa]

Me too!