Finally

by Sarah-Jane Phipps

You came in with the light. Shook the world I was in. You folded all time like a paper crease, and soon, I would unfold in your room. My breath would become shallower and shallower until I was certain I might die, so inundated by that moment that I was convinced your touch was infinite. I fell in love with you above me.

Then there were the tiring, helpless, thoughts inside of me that became voiceless whenever you kissed me.  I wanted to drown inside of you, until morning arrived and the dawn washed us in its arms like the light in a painting. How did anyone ever live without arms for this, without hands for this, without you? This will go on for years, we tell ourselves.

So for now, I will love you like a sailor drinks at sea – too much. Just like I water plants until they drown, I will pour onto you until you cannot catch your breath because you are so deep in the sea I have created for you. Don’t you know when lungs gasp with water stirring in them – that is the most gentle of deaths? Don’t you know the love you breathe in is thicker than the blood that courses through us?

I could list for you, with great delicacy the latitude and longitude of every mark that dots my back, the slow river of freckles that trickle along my spine, that spill across my neck. I could measure for you the weight of my breasts and the breadth of my hips; recite the way the sunlight reflects the blue so powerfully in my eyes- but all this time you thought they were grey. I could explain to you that my natural expression is a pout, I could tell you how I would die for you to place a soft, sweet kiss on that very spot. But it would all be meaningless.

One day there will be no more words for you, from me. Except for the one I scrawl across the expanse of your bare back with the tip of a finger:

Finally.

 


Sarah-Jane Phipps is a 21-year-old writer studying at the University of Queensland.

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