Linseed oil

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it all comes down to this

i hear you getting dressed

in the morning

the rustle of clothing

the sound of your belt

looping your jeans

is all.

 

your bare feet

padding into the kitchen.

clearing

your voice

for a whistle

then a hum

and a song.

a yawn

a stretch

a gesture of coffee

for me

then

your footsteps vanishing

down

the hall.

 

i know your voice

your sigh

your smell

your fingers through your hair

the most delicate sound of all.

 

you say the rootless

man

is a sad one

for

there is much purpose

in family.

 

i stare at my hands

wondering how

you found me

to

clasp them.

now your callused palms

are mine.

 

i smell books

linseed oil

dark chocolate

earth

lavender

tears

and sweat.

 

the scent

of a hard

and

happy

life.

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