By Amethyst
Website: my other X-Files poems can be found at: http://www.icehouse.net/slidefx/xf_contents.htm
Summary: sometime after Requiem, Scully POV
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: X-Files belongs to Chris Carter and Fox Network, no infringement intended.
coming to feed the fish
I turn the key and we are there
on the couch watching a movie
TV light flickering on our faces
you play with your wine glass
swirling dark mesmerizing circles
divining our souls in reflections
of gold and amber
veins and tendons shift
under your skin as you caress the glass
I draw your hands with my eyes
fine long beautiful hands
passionate and kind
here's where the wine splashed
down onto leather
like a wavelet cresting
breaking on a beach
(oh god
oh god
is it always going to be like this)
I move to your bedroom to
the matress slightly hollowed
like grass where deer bed down
I dream the pattern of the pillow cases
I lie down where we loved
and fell asleep
just like this, my hand afloat
on waves of your breathing
my leg clinging to yours
as to a life raft
my hair like seaweed drifting over your arm
you held me and your hands
soothed me as though I'd just been born.
I hug your pillow to me
curl up to and sleep in you
your voice tumbles over me
like the ocean
later I wake with your
hand running through my hair
pulling me close, kissing me
so real
I drown in you
and now I must get ready to go
be unreal again
--sorry we dont have any leads--
--just no place to start--
--the case has been turned over to--
--wish there was better news--
it's dark, I move to go
your walls hold the world upright
keep nothingness from rushing in
you're here, always right here
I'll turn the key and
you'll meet me at the door
knowing everything and
you'll pull me into your arms
into the slow liquid embrace of your mouth
and let me drift in your eyes
the next time and every time
I come to feed the fish