by Crissy M. Sullivan
I sit here drinking black, Columbian coffee,
thinking of how long it has been,
since I last saw your eyes and felt
the volcanic eruption of sweat between our bodies...
But, the longer I think about it, I feel you.
The aromatic flavor of Gravity fills the room.
It seems silly, but I feel your breath
on the back of my neck, and I hear
that song you always used to sing to me
pour from this apparition's lips.
I have this photograph and I cannot
bring myself to part with.
You know it seems funny to me,
I keep telling myself that I am a woman,
and I should be abble to let go by now.
But, the longer I hold that tattered
photograph between my wrinkled fingertips,
I know, I know that I will probably
never be able to let it go.
So many people keep asking me what it was I saw in you...
and to this day I can never describe what it was.
It is so simple, and yet,
it took me months to come to terms with.
I held you, and I went to a dimension beyond reality.
You touched my skin, and I became a porcelain doll,
a princess in a world of vulgarity.
Nothing mattered to you, just me.
But, as with every fairytale, it came to an end.
I know that I will have to move on,
but, I will never, never, lose your photograph.
And that goofy song you used to sing in my ear,
I doubt that it will ever stop playing in the back of my mind,
when I sit by myself, drinking black, Columbian coffee.