For one amazing weekend,
ancient memories
came rushing
to my fingertips.
I traced our past,
using your body
as a map.
I didn't need a tour guide.
Instinct
told me how to love you.
All I had to do
was touch your face,
my hand cradling your chin,
rubbing your whiskers,
looking into your eyes,
and it all came back,
every faded scar and impression,
ones that I'd traced
a lifetime ago.
How my fingers remembered!
My lips still remembered
the soft fullness of yours
and the light tingle
of your kisses,
the imprint they left
long after the last kiss
was bestowed.
I tried to remember
if you liked it
when I kissed your neck,
but it curved so invitingly
I had to try.
You never had
so much dark hair
curling seductively
on your chest
and my fingers
were fascinated
with exploring it.
Our legs intertwined
in the perfect tangle,
my feet caressing yours
in a magical game
of footsie.
I almost wish
you hadn't been so
painfully tender.
Now that you're gone,
my bed remembers
the way your body
settled into it,
and even it
misses your warmth.
I hug the pillow
you lay on,
trying to find
your lingering scent,
but it's already
fading.
My sleep was
incredibly peaceful
that night
as I lay wrapped
in the security
of your arms.
That magical night was proof
that a body never forgets...
No,
we never forgot the love
we shared together
so many years ago,
and never will.
I'm just eagerly awaiting
our next deja vu.
Tell me what to do next, my love.
How do I get back
to your arms?
Help me remember
the way to your heart.
