okay, about your ribbons. no, they're not at home. how could I possibly keep them there anyway? No good answer as to why I would keep my cousin's ribbons from childhood, other than the obvious, which is not a good obvious to most.They are in the top left corner of my desk, in an envelope, that is, by the way, scented of you, in which you sent not too long ago a few small things for me (and a jar of honey, thank you, and a spoon that the initial B on it, which reminded me of the orchard and the Bees, so it must stand for Bees, surely? non?) But it smelled of you and faintly of your perfume and skin, so I put them there.
I have your orange and yellow one with the faint petals on it and that is thin. The indigo blue one that tied at the bottom of each plait, and the blue one with the white daisies that grandmother got you on her trip to the South of France. I also have the black grosgrain ribbons that I stole from your tap-shoes when we made-love in the house.
I know, I should not have done it, but it was irresitable as you. I had to have a piece of you to hold near. I couldn't get enough. Don't you remember how I snuck into your room at night? You shouted at me once, now you were all "trempee!" you said... soaked you said, your nightdress. Your white cotton one. Remember the mornings when we snuck out and rode my bicycle to the parish and kissed in the pews? I remember making love in the back of the church by the raspberry bushes and you casually picking raspberries while I was kissing you and then you asked me what you tasteed like; Do I taste like raspberries? you said.
Funny duck. Sweet though. Miel. Doux. Muette. Petit-Saut. Sous-Silence. Situation Sans Issue. d'accord?
Got that? I know you do... do not divest anymore. Please stop running. I try to reassure. I'm here. I hear.
