Will she always haunt me?
Sometimes I wake up and refuse to open my eyes, her head is tucked in my shoulder, her breath in sync with mine. Before the light leaks in, I breathe in her perfume, a dark and lusting aroma, that takes me back to that afternoon.
Her crumbled toes are peaking beneath the summer sheets, I plant dozens of kisses upon her angelic cheek. Because she’s my little temptress, the garden in my day, and I’m sure all the birds in the sky can’t arrange like the freckles sprinkled across her face. Somehow it wouldn’t be out of place, to find her soundly sleeping in a grove, and I’d hunt her forever just to see where my darling goes.
But I feel her spirit lifting, and her delicate features fade, and I know that I could call her, but God knows that we have changed. I could keep our memory alive, as long as I conjure it, but as much as we love our memories, they cannot love us back, and I need more than longing to
Keep this heart intact.
-KMR
