You are the sweet smell of lavender.
The warmth on the couch in wintertime.
Butterflies.
The early morning energy and the midnight passion.
The coffee stain on a shirt no one is wearing.
The steam from the shower creeping into the next room.
The lamplight pouring over the bedsheets.
The creak of the old stairs built by familiar hands.
The draft let in by the ajar front door.
The one more drink at last call.
The shadow in the darkness.
The hands held empty and open.
The reason to fall asleep.
Tears.
A stranger....again