Home was my finger running up and down the silky skin of your brown, muscular thigh.
Home was the touch of my lips on your neck, the sound of my whisper in your ear.
Home was your tongue easing my lips apart while the sweet warmth of my cunt held you tight.
Home was the weight of my worry and the shadows under your eyes.
Home was the sound of the shower in the morning, and the cup of coffee on the nightstand, and the notes we passed back and forth to each other under our pillows.
Home was the two of us walking along the beach, needing no words, content in our silence.
Home was the feel of the rough stubble on your chin and your hands caressing my curly, wild hair.
Home was the paired beauty of my strength and insecurity, your stability and dread.
Home was your scent, a mixture of chlorine and aftershave, filling up the dresser drawer.
Home was your back snuggled against my belly, my arm thrown over your shoulder.
Home was my sure hands kneading your shoulders and pressing the knots from your back.
Home was watching you repair the cracks in the china teapot and wondering if it would ever be the same.
Home was sitting on the deck with you as the sun set, watching the apple tree blossoms drift slowly to the grass below.
Home was lost in a startling split second made up of a million and one moments of fear and despair that had come before, slipped in the back door, quietly, desperately, and
lingered in the hall, purposely ignored
until home was gone.
Comments please - I've been fussing with this poem far too long. I would appreciate reader's response (what the poem makes you feel and think) and constructive criticism- what works, what doesn't. Thanks.