Chocolate and Chance

by Olivia Jones

Last night I had a dream that I could feel your skin again.

You looked at me like you always do,

with your dirt-colored eyes that

hold earth in a gaze.

My sister was there and you guys

talked like you somehow knew each other,

through me.

And I wondered if either of you knew

that the image in itself

will make me cry a week from tomorrow,

when I remember that you wrapped me in a blanket and walked out

the door.

There's something liminal about now,

some memory that exists in you

that's hot enough to touch me,

dripping sweat onto my skin -

like you

the first night we met

in September when my room was still empty

and you filled it so full we had to

crack a window.