Afterglow

I fell in love first
with the light around her -
making small mythology
out of wood grain and flowers,
sunlight dissolving in dark curls,
summer burning afterglow
in a red dress.

She leaned in like an unfinished painting,
the evening café holding
breath around her,
her eyes drifting through soft edges
and warm shadow,
her lips the kind memory
keeps repairing for intimacy.

I knew almost nothing
about her except the way
light seemed unwilling
to leave her skin alone.

The streetlights began
their usual surrender to evening,
and still I sat there watching,
wanting her,
in an hour already leaving.

Perhaps desire always
ends this way -
not with certainty,
but with the gentle catastrophe
of wanting to remember someone
before they are gone.

And so I carried
the evening home with me -
and the unbearable softness
of almost knowing someone.

Reviews

[Curly Grace]

Such a gorgeous piece. I love how you hold that moment of almost knowing, letting the light, the longing, and the quiet ache drift together. It’s tender and beautifully aware of how desire lingers even as the hour slips away. I really enjoyed this read. Hope you're having a lovely day.