We dressed for our day, the air
between us thick with thrown words,
they loomed, suspended from then to now with no
bridge back. He turned,
just that. Longing jolted through me
for contact, even clothed contact,
us coiled, whorled, my head wreathed in his hands,
touched lips tried upside down like us,
a kiss to map a new way back, to rebuild what was lost
one kiss at a time.
I love that these lovers, Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, were long- term marrieds.
This is in response to the visual prompt at Magpie Tales #92
And for dVerse Poets Pub, open link night #19
