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Laughing Medusas

When I write, it's everything that we don't know we can be that is written out of me, without exclusions, without stipulation, and everything we will be calls us to the unflagging, intoxicating, unappeasable search for love. In one another we will never be lacking. ~Helene Cixous "The Laugh of the Medusa"

Thursday, April 15, 2004

Your Return

I woke to a soft caress this morning, fingertips lightly brushing against my shoulder. I could smell that scent that is distinctly you, a mix of your sweat and cologne, the smell that took three washings to remove from my sheets and still lingers on my comforter. I turned to face you, grateful that you had found your way back to my bed. Anticipating your arms, your skin, your mouth against me, I turned to face you and rolled into that familiar ache of emptiness when I saw nothing and realized that even the touch of my hand in the morning evokes memories of you.

~Asherah

posted @ 10:35 AM

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