I made myself a book of memories of you and titled it
To call it "Memories Of You" would be admitting that you were there.
Fondling my cheekbones
Watching me from afar
Waiting for me at my designated area
Wiping crumbs off my lips
Fetching my slippers
Fingering my soul.
Entwining it with lace and shimmering gold.
I heard from the conversation with the postman and the neighbor next door that you had packed your things and went.
Maybe to our sacred place. Hopefully to reminisce soft times and cry at your disposal.
At least I did.
For now I see you twinkling in the reflection of my bedroom mirror around sundown.
God you've made my skin glisten.
As I turned to lock the door and head to my sacred place I feel a lightweight cresent my skin and cleanse me whole.
Watching me from afar..