Masculine Freedom
The fixedness of certain things exhausts-
like my own shadow, this old tree and the sun.
I climb out of my dream,
Put on my clothes
And do not turn back.
I still carry the scent of you though-
The warming aroma of spices,
Juniper and citrus.
I sense in me a rare smell of masculine freedom.
Behind, I feel your eyes blaze intensely,
I do not halt. I walk. Not the brisk early morning walk,
but the lethargic walk, drowsily stretching after a sleep,
the last sleep before waking in which dreams appear.
I still feel your shoulders,
my lips pressed against them in my dream.
We stood like two bodies dissolved in a song.
I must remove you, the last strains of you
that’s somewhere within me as close as breath
but I will hold on to your last whisper,
one last thing you whispered into my neck-
“You’re reborn. You’re never the same again!”
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