Masculine Freedom

The fixedness of certain things exhausts- like my own shadow, this old tree and the sun. I climb out of my dream, Put on my clothes And do not turn back. I still carry the scent of you though- The warming aroma of spices, Juniper and citrus. I sense in me a rare smell of masculine freedom. Behind, I feel your eyes blaze intensely, I do not halt. I walk. Not the brisk early morning walk, but the lethargic walk, drowsily stretching after a sleep, the last sleep before waking in which dreams appear. I still feel your shoulders, my lips pressed against them in my dream. We stood like two bodies dissolved in a song. I must remove you, the last strains of you that’s somewhere within me as close as breath but I will hold on to your last whisper, one last thing you whispered into my neck- “You’re reborn. You’re never the same again!”