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I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."
Copyright by Ash L. Bennett, 2011
I walked into the bathroom,
ran into her yet again
at the witching hour
and smiled solemnly.

"You're not looking your best,"
I said.

Her smile fell just a hint,
but she kept up her head.

"You're quite the beautiful
disaster yourself."

I don't think our eyes
are smiling anymore,
but her red lips remain upturned.

She's pale.
Her eyes are dark underneath.
She probably couldn't sleep;
well, it's why I was there.

We stood staring in silence,
each evaluating the other
as enemies,
as friends.

I wonder when the last time
was that we saw each other
with the same thoughts
in mind;

the last time when we agreed
with the other;

when we looked our best;
when crying;
when laughing;

just gazing at each other
on the same wavelength.

But she's still smiling
without smiling,
and so am I.

"Goodbye," I nod to her.

She nods back.
"I'll see you again,"
she whispers with a smile.

— The End —