Bodies - Paige J Mader - Year 1

When you touch me

You give me little dreams,

Fragments,

Like the fog you wake up to

at 3 AM when you know

You were dreaming about something,

You just can’t remember what,

You just remember it consuming you for that brief,

little moment.

When I touch you,

It’s like reading a map.

Your skin is your geography,

Your bones the topography,

The slope of your shoulders,

Giving way, like bluffs, into oblivion,

The irregular ribbing of your ribcage,

Pressed up against my molehills,

Don’t hide, you say.

We’re climbing these mountains together.

Your hands guide my hands

Here.

            and     Here.

Showing me the rhythm in my hips.

Telling your version

of Our Story

of Intimacy

and Fear

and Insecurity

and Acceptance.

Finally, Acceptance.

Nestled in the valley of your chest,

We made high ground today.

And as we came down,

Your fingers laced in mine the whole way,

I felt a shudder overtake me,

The way a person shudders

When they know they’ve got something extraordinary.

Something electric.

That sets fire to my skin,

And pulls me by my hair,

But I don’t really notice,

And I don’t really care.

Just hold me that much closer

For that much longer.

I’ll dream my little dreams,

And then we’ll come back tomorrow.