I still remember your skin.
The way it felt beneath mine
and how it was always so warm
to the touch. Like my own
personal sun. You always shone
I still remember your smell.
Like cheap cigarettes and earth.
I use to hate the smell of cigarettes
but somehow you made them smell
like home. I was always able to find
and home in you.
I still remember your voice.
How you loved classic rock
and would sing along to every
song on the radio. You were
always off key but to me you
sounded beautiful. I never
wanted or needed to correct you.
I still remember your touch.
Your hands were always rough
and dry with palms too wide for
your fingers but they felt like heaven
when you glided them across my
shoulders or through my tangled hair.
I still remember yours.
Such a beautiful and natural red that
shone golden in the sunlight and never
wanted to stay out of your eyes. You always
complained about it being greasy or needing
a cut but I always found it to be perfect and
soft. I felt a peace running my hands through
it while you slept on my chest. I felt a peace
when I was with you.
I still remember your breath.
It was always deep and heavy and you
would apologize for it but it never once
bothered me. It gave me something to
fall asleep to, like a lullaby.
I always slept better with your
breath on my neck.
I still remember how we made love.
Always so full and breathless with a
passion I will never be able to put
into words. You would place butterfly
kisses on every part of me and whisper
I love you. I use to live for those three words.
I almost remember how you use to say them.
You would say them constantly so as to
make sure I hadn’t forgotten. When I said
I loved you too you would claim that
I could never love you as much as you
did me. It was a game I could never win,
I didn’t ever want to.
There was never a doubt in my mind
that you didn’t love me.
But when you said those words the last
time I couldn’t bring myself to believe you.