Your face eludes me yet it’s the first thing I see. My daily mirage.
The Earth is drenched almost sole… yet my desert is dry. What kind of nature is named mothe… that lets deserts die.
I keep these gifts you gave me to haunt myself with your ghost. Your scent long since faded. Your face somewhat a blur. You are nothing but a memory.
We had one night. One night free of inhibitions. One night of disregard for others. Our minds connected in deep conver… My hand brushed shoulder.
