our memories fuel my weakened soul...........with a concoction of sweet bliss and sorrow
I've sipped aged red wine from your collar bones
and was blessed by the touch of your skin.
when the rain poured it still didn't smear the imprint of your lips on my  cheek.
I still remember the sweet sugar glaze over your eyes when you looked at old pictures of your grandmother.
The family trips
The thanksgiving dinners and the sweet echos of laughter.
The old flower petals you kept from her funeral and the note you found that she left for you when she knew the end was near.
You used to look at me with that same sugar glaze sort of trance.
But things seem to be different.
The picture frames are broken
The trips have been called off
and the flower petals have dried and crumbled.
But there's still a hint of that sugar glaze love in your eyes......