The villages: Ramsholt

I caught it, the scent of it, on my arm and it was her.      
Her body was the catalyst -      
one that I could etch on the mind and it could heal me      
in all manner of ways.      
       
It stays with me, even now, in those special,      
isolated, cold, aching, hating days.      
I ponder where she sleeps, for seconds upon seconds, whether she heals them      
in the burning sense, that she did me.      
       
It claps within me, like the steady heartbeat and makes me sure      
she'd never be safe        
in my presence, any more than I would      
in hers. The meeting of misery.        
       
As it unfurls, it becomes clear that her body        
was the weaponry        
she used to imprison my spirit and my mind was the cage        
I used to capture hers -      
       
and it did,      
and we did        
but as for now      
it feels like we were fools.        
       
There's no lust left for tomorrow      
and no love left for today. We're full of old feeling, and yet,        
her body caught me alight.      
Her body was the catalyst.  
 
[Photography: Toccoferro]