The Last Time

To toss and turn to the tune of
your light sleep murmurs,
so rhythmic,
pulsing with the beat of my open heart.

To wake and look at you in
morning's twilight,
beautiful sun-stained face,
half smiling at some distant dream.

To have a bed/ridden,
morning talk with you,
spoken in hoarse lush
half sleep whispers.

To wake and share coffee
and speak of what we both hoped
to do inside of a day, a moment,
a lifetime.

To send you off,
Smelling of fresh, haunting things,
cinnamon and chocolate and tobacco,
spice notes.
And freshly pressed, sharp...
A dapper man.
My dapper man.

To wade through my day,
Waiting for an end,
Just to see you again.
Never to know
That moment would not come.

You would not return to me,
To our heart/place,
To this abode.

If ever I had known,
I would have stretched out that
morning sleep talk,
held onto your every word,
stared deeper into your eyes,
fought for more.

If ever I had known,
I would have lingered on your lips,
wrapped my hands tighter around your hips,
cherished your breath on my skin,
prayed harder for your return.

If ever I had known,
I would have taken in the scent of you more,
your earth notes, and the complex smell of you,
so that I'd remember for
the future.

If ever I had known,
That morning would be the last time,
I could see you and you could see me,
I would have smiled more,
Not complained of your smoke
and hairs in the sink,
and wrinkled clothes tossed about the bed and bathroom.
I would have created a place of remembrance in my heart
big enough for all our past
and, present things.

If ever I had known.

Jason Christopher Johnson
September 30, 2012