The sun flings and the moon covers
until all that is left
by the burning and freezing of time
is memory of her touch.
Even her laugh leaves.
The sound carried by winds
no longer felt
on skin bared to the elements.
Her presence pushes, presses
against, threatening to smother--
a strong current that promises to drown.
To feel her heat again
might be a grace too much to ask.
To feel her softness
might be a pleasure too much to bear.
The rain comes,
the thunder deafens,
all that is left is silence.
Emptiness.
A memory of a flash
still seen when eyes are closed.

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