I pass through rooms

reliving the time

you were mine.

Dishevelled cushions

discarded in array,

ghostly footsteps

crossing the threshold

of ecstasy.

 

Here, my fingertips rest,

caress the chipped doorframe

mimicking the circles you drew

across my shoulders,

along my spine.

 

Whispers of you

drift delicately by my neck,

cheeks and earlobes,

over the threshold,

lit by a ray of sunlight,

into ecstasy.

Cloth pieces of us

adorn the floor

and stretch carelessly

in the afternoon sun.

 

Here, I breathe deeply,

inhaling the scent

of you and I,

lovers entwined

in cotton and cloud nine.

 

 

 

Image credit.