Anecdote
by Marilyn Velez

I must have brushed my lips against you a thousand times in my mind, like a sweet tale of
deja vu. I could barely pronounce your name, but every time I sit here memorizing your
face, I hope you don't catch me staring. You're like that aged bottle of whiskey, sitting on
the shelf, waiting to be opened. And like those ordinary dates of dinner and a movie, I'd
rather lie with you under the sky and watch the stars. I want to press my flesh against you
like sardines, I want to get lost in your labyrinth, I want to share visions of velvet, I want
to dance under the pale moonlight. And when we kiss, I want to savor each moment as if
it were the last, so that when you're gone, I can relive every second in my mind. And
when the light of the Phoenix rises, I want to know what it feels like to wake up in your
arms.




Previously published in The Poetica Somniorum: A Diverse Collection of Poems.


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