What I wanted you to take

I took the sweetness of dawn, 

From your mouth when you woke. 

I took your mind: groggy and dazed, 

before your ego allowed the world to greet you. 

I took one last musky sigh, 

the perfume of your skin danced on my senses. 

I took enough for me to let go: 

of the entanglement that was and will never again be. 

I took the weariness of fog, 

that comes over you at night, 

when you know I can’t stay. 

I took all things that are comforting 

when you know it’s goodbye. 

I take your memory of me, 

I take raw flesh; 

more than songs and midnight prayers. 

The one thing I ever took, 

that didn’t feel like it belonged to me.

About the Author

Gianna Trusello is a freshman at Arcadia University studying biology who uses writing as a recreational outlet. Her writing draws on her own experiences and is influenced heavily by her admiration of all things related to nature.