For a while I thought I would be able to look at the wall near the front door and not think of us pressed against it, a tangle of limbs. Your imprint is still there, like your soul is trapped inside. I look at that wall and I think of you.
There are days when I’ll be laying in a bar of sunlight, and I’ll smell you. I’ll remember you pressed hard against me in the dark, your skin smelling of sunlight like spun gold. Your heart thundering against my back, your soft sleep breathing in my right ear.
Heat would roll off you in waves, like a heat mirage. Being with you was like never reaching the wet spot on the street in the middle of summer. I couldn’t get enough.
I didn’t think that I would ever miss you, but I do. I didn’t think I’d miss the way you laugh, or think about your forearms ever again.
I am thinking of your forearms. I am angry with myself.