The first morning of your return
I hear you singing in the shower
& I can’t help but live-tweet the allusions
how accidentally
you belong with me my sweetheart
how you give me a reason to be a woman
I already know darling
I already know before it’s out there in the open
call it instinct
or foreshadowing or
inevitability
nothing keeping us apart but a bedroom wall
Till the wall’s not there anymore
& we’re hitting 4.20
watching all my favourite movies
you laugh
& recite them
from memory
Take me to the beach babe
with vodka soda in a thermos &
your hand there to guide me
I snap your picture
when you’re not looking
honey you’ve soaked up the sun
That night we stretch out
the longing even longer
& when you eventually ask for a kiss
I turn around & face you
spinning so quick you can taste the
whiplash on my lips
Like the wind we
walk right into
I cling to you
down streets I’ve never known
that somehow feel like home
is this what it means to be unalone
The way everything feels so much more possible
the way everything is so big & so intimate simultaneously
when we venture out into the world
but we’ve got our own right here
a world, inside a world
inside expansion
How I could call this forever:
just here in the kitchen
with the ocean our companion
& two cats with wide eyes
looking at us as we look at each other
with almost disbelieving adoration
If I could have chicken parm,
a cocktail & a kiss
every night for dinner for the
rest of my life I’d call it bliss
honey those hands of yours
they never miss
Honey those nangs of yours they fucking hit
honey we’re floating &
what the fuck is groundedness
if we slip from the sky
there’s a spa pool right outside
& gravity no longer exists
& this whole sunset it’s for us babe
this whole fortnight instant history
that red & blue strewn across heaven
the way everything explodes when we touch
the way every second with you is so much
but also never enough
How I’ve always been alone but now
even a moment of your absence aches
how accidentally
I am now half of something whole
how I wish time would stop
how I count every minute
That very soft ticking of your watch
keeping time when we’re together
how I hope to unspool that forever
how the world will follow after
as I melt under blue skies
into you.
Devon Webb (she/her) is a writer & editor based in Aotearoa New Zealand. Her award-winning work has been published extensively worldwide & revolves around themes of femininity, vulnerability, anti-capitalism & neurodivergence. She is a staff writer for Erato Magazine & Pulp Lit Mag, an editor for Prismatica Press, & a founding member of The Circus (@circuslit), a collective prioritising radical inclusivity within the indie lit scene. She can be found on social media at @devonwebbnz.
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