Worth the Salt of His Flesh

There’s still sand in my sheets from when we went straight to bed after coming home from the beach.

I’ll never forget how the contrast between the rough grains and your curly leg hair made my skin feel embarrassed for being unnaturally smooth.

I still remember that your lips were stained with ocean but no matter how hard I kissed you they only tasted sickeningly sweet.

Your hair, bleached by the Sun, had strands of gold, and you plucked the longest one from your scalp, tied it around my pinky and said, “We have nothing to prove, you and I.”

I told you that my heart beats in fingerprints, yours, but you didn’t think that was possible, so I brought my chest to your ear like a seashell and made you listen for the sound of contact.

And when you heard it, you looked at me like I had planets in my skin and constellations in my hair and kissed me like I had just swallowed the moon.

You love me, and I love you too.

We have nothing to prove, you and I.

-erica jeudy ©


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