I saw your cup on the counter, a smear of lipstick on the rim; to my tongue, it tasted of the memory of your lips. My heart melted and dripped out my eyes, sniffing I placed it in the dishwasher.
I smelled your perfume on my t-shirt; holding it to my face; I could feel your gossamer presence lightly on my chest. My heart lept and stumbled as I dropped it in the washing machine.
I heard your voice in the song I heard on the radio; sultry and contralto, so quiet I leaned into the speaker to hear you more. Like cats paw it caressed my ear, but it ended, having never said my name.
I felt the memory of your velvet skin on my fingers; laying in bed I raised them to my cheek. I fell asleep and dreamed of the quiver of your thigh.
Waking with a smile; I greeted the day with melancholy.
Time goes forward, the memories fade, but hope is eternal.
©The Autobiography of Mr. Perfect 2015