Re-Awakening

Faces fly in and out of the door, and my jaw aches from warm, welcoming smiles. The map crinkles on the desk, the same places marked in ink again and again. Chalk dust coats my fingers while names are written and erased, written and erased, written and erased. Voices meld into amalgamous cacophony, save one.

A sound of low honey-wine, soothing and warm. Soft, caressing whispers to make me shiver. Supple, sliding fingers to make my breath escape. Warm, beating hearts to make my blood quicken. A glowing, vibrant soul that puts my pen to paper.

The click of a handle, a door swings open, and a face steps out. A beautiful, smiling face that compels me across the threshold. Lips that needed to be felt against my own, to weave a cord around my heart to yours.

This is from when I was working at a hostel and my now-wife was a guest staying for a few days. We spent some fun nights together. When they checked out, I followed them out to say goodbye and asked if I may kiss them (worked out, luckily!). Afterwards I wrote them this poem because I am nothing if not extra.

Funny fact: I was also living at that hostel, which was a converted single family home, doing a work trade. Which meant I lived the lesbian dream of “the one” simply walking into my living room.