And I wonder sometimes
where you are and
what you are doing.
If you ever think about
all that was, and all
that has been.
Your clothes on my bedroom floor,
the barricaded door,
your eyes locked in mine.
The soothing silence,
like a warm blanket,
conveying between us
what words never could.
Our heads resting on pillows,
my hand catching a lock of your hair,
as your wedding ring lay dormant
upon the wooden nightstand.
And I remember
all your special places that,
when touched right,
assured me of a long hot night,
breaking said silence,
with gentle sighs,
and passionate groans,
sweat dripping from our pores,
as our bodies became one,
as did our souls.
And I remember
the slither of morning light
that awoke us
through the cracks
of thrift shop curtains,
little particles of dust
caught in its rays.
Oh, how I remember
first light kisses,
morning caresses,
and, afterwards,
your body covering
half of mine,
the gentle stroking
of your forehead
and the sweet scent
of your skin.
And in between
these moments,
I remember a dream
of never-ending happiness
that turned out to be
just what that was.