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  • Writer's pictureJessica Urlichs

When We Met


I remember the kitchen, take out menus, playlists on repeat

his hand that slid into my back pocket. Playful, fun,

never knowing what would happen next.

Now dust, dancing around rolled up nappies that sit next to pots and pans, unfamiliar acquaintances

My belly, still wild and willful now echoes primal groans

My mind, as full as my bedside table

on it, titles of textbooks with spines much thinner than mine

The nights of wine and laughter

now a pink sunrise of milk and tears

My eyes, a river that welcome the shower

My fingertips, now someones world, in them, so many memories.

My heart the beating drum, twisting to the melody of cries

bursting with love.

My lips holding in the secrets of the courage I will find

My hips swaying to the rhythm of all the lost slumbers

My hands, fearful of not holding it all together

My heart, a vehicle always travelling north

My body, a jungle gym, full of old stories

with promise of new endings

And the kitchen, now full of noise, leg tugging and grumbling tummies

Tasting from spoons before dinner is ready.

His hand welcome in my back pocket again

It’s not easy falling in love.

Again and again

and again.

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