May by Christen Dimalanta


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May

We are in my bed.
The lights are off. We are not tired.
You are flying out tomorrow morning
for who knows how long. We don’t know.
We forget what time is when we are not together.
We only remember how skin feels like.
When it is under our fingers. When it is pressed against us.
I am quoting lines from one of our favorite books:
How love misses, how love hurts, how love longs.
To remind you what comes with what we’ve made.
Your shoulders start shaking. I don’t ask anything of you.
I only whisper, I will never leave you.
The softest parts of your skin are under my fingers now.
They are pressed against me.
Not ever.




Christen Dimalanta

Christen Dimalanta is a 20-year-old poet from Guam. She is majoring in Literature because she is in love with words. When she is not writing about wolves, she is running with them. They inspire her poetry, found on: shewolfwritings.wordpress.com.