Zero Discord


Zero Discord

I turn over in bed
to look at you.
It’s dark in this
room, blinds shut.

Lights are off, and
I’m holding your hands.
Looking at your eyes,
I remember hugging you

earlier. I was seeing you
for the first time in a
while after a brisk night
drive to your house.

Streams of wind chilled
the windshield and
whipped in through
rolled-down windows.

Through the windscreen we
admired the approaching
city lights as you rode
passenger and we descended

down from your hillside home.
I could sense your pulse
beat with gear changes
and the curves in the road.

Wind threw your locks about,
but here now your golden
hair is resting on
my shoulder, soft like

a new paintbrush. Dirty blonde
pigmented strands brush my
collarbone, faded to ivory
from streetlight antumbra.

I’m in bed
stroking your cheek.
I’m holding you
close as can be.

I can hug you
and squeeze you tight
underneath sheets,
no longer daydreaming.

I kiss you, and we
roll over. The scent of
Viva La perfume is rife,
billowing from bedsheets.

Your lips taste semi-sweet.
I lean back to look at you in
what light’s glow from blinds’
slats that expose your shadows

and curving planes of body.
In the dark room, only dim,
striped blue hues show me
an evergreen you.

Touch of warmth from
chest, and fabric of
high-count threads
rubs against us

in the bed. On an
end table out of view
rests our necklaces,
holding hands, too.

Your little turtle
pendant, green and blue
and nickel plated,
next to my small

wooden puzzle piece
on a thick, black
string contrasted
to your delicate chain.

You shine, and your nude
thighs subtly close in
perhaps timidity.
I recall hours ago,

the way your lovely face lit
up ever so slightly when
you opened your front door
while I was knocking. Often,

It doesn’t always have to
be something risque spoken
between us. Foremost, it’s
simply us. Us feels natural

when we harass and poke
at each other in the car,
or even through our phones
when we’re miles apart.

I joked and jested about
the lack of food in this
apartment. Yet this moment,
you consume me. I say

“I love you.” while we’re
aware of each other gently,
our hands underneath a
blanket that wouldn’t last

covering us much longer.
But even in this now,
we haven’t changed from
our earlier joking.

Haze of blue light
from streetlamps
illuminates your bra
and my shirt on the floor.

In this dark, I don’t need
to see you to know that
you’re beautiful, because
I quite know that you are.

Your silhouette ripples in
between ceiling reflections
of a twinkling pond visible
beyond drawn blind slats.

I think of your skin
as I touch every inch.
I admire your ‘seamless’
underwear with my hands

after an earlier earnest
discussion about something
sort of silly turned
into a clothing label learned.

Every part of you is
taking in the faded light.
Even the parts you aren’t
as hot about as am I.

Now with your hair
sticking to my lips,
I rub your back
and feel your legs.

I think of the open window
and how warm the air
is becoming with our
paced and subtle movements.

With your legs sprawled
around mine, I kiss you.
We smoothly roll over,
and I feel you again.

Feeling your spine
and your soft S Curve
down to the crest of
your curvy waistline.

Your scent clashes with
the moisture of sweat
that’s lightly formed
on our arms.

Your unruly locks fall.
Cascading down cutely
and tickling my face
until you blow them away.

Your dazzling eyes are
black and white in the
faded turquoise light.
Muscles tense

but we haven’t changed,
still quipping at
each other affectionately
while you’re on top

of me. I remember funny
things and sentiments
we swapped earlier; how
similar now always is.

It’s some kind of wonder,
some real rapture, that
has me. It’s a melody
in the night, when we

connect. It’s called ‘us’
in name, and in practice it’s
being open. Together. Jokes
and left behind intimacy by

your breaths aside, it’s just us.
Intricately, complexly, evergreenly
something semi-sweet and
too wonderful to not say so.

I pull back from another long
kiss to see your eyes very
subtly aglow in the dark.
I remember how they shimmer

in the daytime. But this
early morning, we shift
again. Still nothing
different. Just our den.

Between the purr of past
engines, and the heartbeat
behind your chest, know
I feel you just like earlier

when we were in the car,
driving to this apartment.
As the engine revved then,
I feel you just as before

when we were laying on
the couch, lazily holding hands
and watching crude cartoons
on the plasma television.

When I looked at you, and
with a grin of mischief
proclaimed “You’re pretty
pretty.” in all seriousness.

But then just as on the couch,
with your fluttering voice
you sigh in reply, “You’re pretty
pretty, too.” And we giggle.

Yet now, our bodily fluids
combine in remembrance of those
stone set sentiments. Ourselves
being us and naturally entwining.

Still giggling from before,
still beaming all the while,
we won’t be any different
than any previous place or time.

We’ll get up in the morning
and shower together. A faint
musk of strawberries will
permeate gently from your hair

with fragrances of shampoo and
body wash casually soaping.
That same, clean, homely
aroma will potently emit

like it does now. Your makeup
will run under the water and
you’ll say, “Oh, great, you’re
gonna see me with panda eyes,”

and I’ll tell you “You’re cute.”
Later that afternoon when
I take you back home, you’ll have
a hasty panic, sighing,

“I must have left my necklace
on that table beside the bed.”
Which I’d find later that day
beside my own wooden pendant,

still holding hands.
You’ll tell me from miles away
that “It’d be cute if you
decided to wear mine instead

of yours.” I’ll smile later
the next day after I pick it
up and proudly coil the small
chain around my neck.

I’m looking at your eyes
and your lovely,
ethereal lit form
beneath mine. An hour or

two ago when we were
getting comfortable, I
watched you take your
necklace off, along with

everything else. Something
thin, something sheer,
something too thick that
wouldn’t be missed.

I’ll wake up beside you later on
this morning after we grew tired,
at last, of wasting away the
early hours of today. But it’s

okay. Before we strip and get
in the shower, you’ll take out
your earrings I’ve come to
be so fond of (only on you).

You bring both hands up to take
them out and become ungauged,
setting the plastic bloody-bleach
colored spikes on the counter

in front of the bathroom mirror,
just beside the sink
where our necklaces
casually touch their strings.

And we don’t miss until
later in the day when I
drive you home and we
have to part ways.

We don’t miss until
we share one last kiss
in the driveway. Until
next time, when

I’ll get to see you again.

Published by Jake Thomas Shaw

Concerned with memory, currency, and destiny, I strive to capture each one as they happen. Join me and consume reality! Radio Reality. City!

One thought on “Zero Discord

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