S.C. Flynn

Distracted, I moulded the darkness

into the shape of your hips while you slept.

Through the pillow I felt the splitting edge

of the mental knife I’d stashed there overnight.

Thinking I’d said too much already,

I stopped my betraying mouth

and started to think

that this was just my body lying there,

while my real self was far away and free.

By dawn, the knife was blunt, I was fully myself

and I reached out once more, moulding

the light into the shape of your hips.

Published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal