soft reminders

Worn bed linens, a breeze, tattered cloth flapping gently like lapping water

at the edge of a river.

Time erodes layers,

fades colors, tatters fabric

leaving remnants behind,

like a bed and our love.

At a certain angle, depending on where I am, and with whom, the night follows me

when I close my eyes,

rolling over my skin, into the quietest crevices where you have recently been.

I lie as still as I can,

feeling your mouth on mine, the weight of you,

long after you're gone.