(As Published in Silhouettes of Stardust)
The memory of your touch lived in my skin
long after I’d forgotten everything else;
the quiet stream of your voice
trickling down my neck,
the summer sky behind your eyes
thawing the traces of ice left in my lungs,
the breeze of your smile
chasing butterflies down my spine.
All were lost,
pick pocketed by Time.
The smell of rain on your hair left me
parched in the desert.
The careful words you chose faded
until I was deaf.
Treasures I longed to keep
hidden in my chest
slipped beneath the dirt.
Lost to the depths of the earth.
But not the scrape of your fingers
drawing maps on my skin,
heavy with importance.
The weight of your body
hovering over mine.
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