I sat at the end of the couch. Tilting my head, I wanted to lean over her, but I ended up slamming at the couch. It shook my head and my system; it reminded me she’s already gone. A belligerence to my frail, beating heart!
Peering over the balcony, sucking the fresh air instead of breathing her faint scent, I noticed the scars I’ve got from the broken glass fragments and stain marks on the closet, all left by her perfume. I’m having olfactory hallucinations!
Under the table, my legs crossed. Lips quiver in trepidation, bitten over the frustration. Craving for her kiss—that’s truly satisfaction. The sensation when our lips collide. A taste doesn’t subside. Curse this phantom taste perception!
Sitting at the side of the pool, I soaked my feet in the water, suffocated, and drowned in something odd. The mental aberration was that my reflection was gasping for me to pull them from the pool of memories—a flicker from the past.
Here at the front porch, gazing at the windowpane and the empty kitchen, My ears heard the intermittent cutting board thumps and the sizzling sound of her cooking our dinner. My appetite longed for her.
