drew a picture of him.

so last night i drew a picture of him.

winter had began packing her bags to make her way to the other side of the world and i began unpacking mine looking for short sleeve polos and light denims.
the sun had put his foot down and claimed the day and begged me to open the windows to feel the heat.

and my phone rang.

his voice was hoarse and low, but excited. He reminded me of my promises to swim a few laps once the temperature went up, and i reminded him of his promise to find the secluded swimming hole with a sauna close by.

"i already have that taken care of. i'm on the way to scoop you."

it was still kinda cool, so an outdoor pool was out of the question, but i didn't want to ask because i'd swim in the atlantic in mid december if he were a few strokes ahead.

we were indoors.
his sister was out of town and her pool was empty.
and the sauna had just been fixed.

we raced to each end of the pool remembering the good old days of summer camp and getting darker. we laughed as we swam through each others legs, pretending it was an accident when our hands grazed leg hairs.

we played until our fingertips were white and our eyes were red.

we crawled out of the water, out shorts becoming airtight bags, and our eyes becoming voyagers as they trekked every bulge, groove, curve and lean on the other's body.

i could no longer breath.
i closed my eyes and reached out for the towel not far in front of me.

"how about that sauna?"

i opened my eyes and he stood four feet in front of me pulling down his shorts, not once removing his eyes from mine.
i closed my eyes again.

somewhere between my first five steps towards the door of the sauna and when the heat first discovered my skin i had removed my shorts and wrapped myself in a towel made with egyptian cotton.

he sat across from me where the two walls met.
his head down, his legs up and his thoughts deep.

i could still smell the soap he used when he showered earlier that morning.
the powder he applied after the cocoa butter lotion was lavender.
i could smell it all.
his skin was edible.
his hands and feet were stolen from gods.

i sat there...quiet...sitting.
my feet brushing against the floor and my hands to the side..

the heat began building.
i inhaled deep once i remembered to breathe.

i sat in that sauna holding onto a feeling i can't describe.
a feeling i wouldn't share with my closest friend.

and in my mind i drew a picture of him so that i'd remember this feeling always.

sat and waited.

so last night i sat and waited.

i placed the well-worn, low-sitting ikea chair beside my bed and rested.
this chair remained my favorite because of the deep dip.
the blinds had been raised earlier once the sun had been defeated. my favorite part of the day had long passed, and i found myself feeling some kind of way.

it's been weeks since i've fulfilled the human need of touch.
it's been days since i've licked my lips to get the attention of the cute one riding the metro every morning at 5:45am.
and my breaths have been slower.

i sat in this seat with my legs on the bed staring through the blinds at the tops of trees and beyond them into a gray abyss...
and i prayed with my eyes open that this wouldn't last always.

i prayed with my eyes open, asking that this feeling was as temporary as the few sips of cappuccino left in my only mug.
i prayed out loud for reassurance.

i could still smell 'black love' body oil in my tshirt and i could still remember the last day he wore it.

i watched mute bodies rush across the screen, and listened to the neighbor's toilet flush.
i wished i had onions in the fridge to chop so i'd cry to release this hold.

and i played sade's 'jezebel' and it happened.
i cried and realized he was gone.

mr. right will be here.
but right now he's in africa...and he's walking.

so last night i sat and waited.