waiting beneath the sheets
are tangled smells of you -
i cling to them
like i'm speaking french
to the synethic fibers,
delicate stitches
the deep canvas of black
like the upholstery of your
vintage flint car.
sweet
moments filled to the brim
of our wine glasses
gathering dust in the back
of the cabinet;
i smile and recall
that old 30's style
champagne gown
you hunted down for me
that you held your breath
your heart beating in tune
to mine -
and even though your side is
still luke-warm, i can feel
you in every strand of my hair
every cell of my skin
and underneath still.