I used to love you
in the spring, when grass sprouted
high up through the dirt, when sun
broke the clouds and the air
was warm, when we walked
along the streets, our hands
entwined, electricity surged
through us, back and forth
like elasticity. Every word
was new, untold, every touch
undiscovered, supple and sweet
temptations swept between us,
and times carried and quickly as light
taking us further, deeper, pushing into
each other until each day was a repeat,
words already spoken, every inch of your body
I had already discovered, every hair
one I had touched before
the flicker in your eye I’d seen
a million times, the surge between us
dying, as time changes all and changed
me. Now I remember when
I used to love you.
Elasticity
Elasticity
By Zoe Lauckner
I used to love you
in the spring, when grass sprouted
high up through the dirt, when sun
broke the clouds and the air
was warm, when we walked
along the streets, our hands
entwined, electricity surged
through us, back and forth
like elasticity. Every word
was new, untold, every touch
undiscovered, supple and sweet
temptations swept between us,
and times carried and quickly as light
taking us further, deeper, pushing into
each other until each day was a repeat,
words already spoken, every inch of your body
I had already discovered, every hair
one I had touched before
the flicker in your eye I’d seen
a million times, the surge between us
dying, as time changes all and changed
me. Now I remember when
I used to love you.