Sweet reflection

I can still see the curve of your hip, the golden down on your forearm. I can feel the warmth of your body against mine, the sweet urgency of our closeness.

To think I may never again feel your soft skin pressed against mine hurts so much, yet the oft used quote springs to mind “It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

What nonsense that is – the pain is too acute to deny.

The French call it the little death.

Alone with my memories and my images, I die.

A little.