A PanAfricanist Queer Womanist Collective
By Lara Gemini Poet
I saw your shadow downstairs and it waved good morning
as my soul still fails to wave goodbye.
It stood there,
leaning against the same wall I had you on when we kissed to christen our new home.
You said my lips were crusty and made me a cheese sandwich
on a chair because the kitchen counter was full of boxes we hadn’t opened for ten days
In those ten days, we slept on a cold floor, waiting for our bed
yet managed to make love as if we were floating in silent waters.
I warmed myself in between your thighs as they engulfed my waistline,
your lips burning my lustful yearning with a smoker’s kiss
until I was almost high-with love.
You made me so wet and sweaty tearing my clothes apart,
telling me you love me beyond your existence-
passion is a stain that lasts longer the life of a blue sky
I still miss you like you died yesterday babe…
I still love you like I just saw you
even though it took me three months to say that I love you,
the next day you found all those letters and poems I wrote for you.
I found them too in your shoebox with letters you never gave me.
You wrote, my eyes are shaped like pebbles and when I’m mad
my lips tremble like shivering skin.
You said when I hold you your soul weeps in contentment
and the day I leave you the rainbow would be like the lies of Christmas.
I read this with tears dancing in my face
my soul shaking like a weeping woman
I dragged myself up the stairs and watched my spirit going corner to corner,
seeking for God and then I bumped into your shadow.
It waved good morning as my soul still fails to wave goodbye.
It stood there
leaning against the same wall I had you on when we kissed to christen our new home,
you said my lips were crusty and made me a cheese sandwich on a chair
because the kitchen counter was full of boxes we hadn’t opened.