my memory of you
of us
of me
now seems like a watercolored painting.
a messy canvas
in which the colors are all blending together.
Yet it is still a bright one
with reds and oranges
just like my dress
the one that you loved
the one that you took off of me with your  mouth
you hands barley touching me
yet I craved them
I craved to be in that  small warm space
between your breath and my skin.

Now
we are
only what we were:
A beautiful painting.

Every now and then
I take the painting out
dust it off
hang it up.
I hang it up on  the various walls in my new home.
The yellow wall in my living room
The lilac walls of my bedroom.
I cannot  seem to find a place for it.
In my memory it shall stay.

In my memory is where
your strong hands
your tender smell
your beautiful face
your energy
that shook me
that took me
for the ride of my young life
shall stay.