the memory of his touch

the memory of his touch
dances across my skin
driving me mad.
his kisses remain imprinted
on my lips.
everything i do
reminds me of him.
his scent is gone from my room
but is still there in the back of my mind.
i wake in the morning
reaching across the wide expanse of my bed
hoping for a brief moment
that it was a dream
and he is still there.
as my fingers graze the bare white wall
the harsh reality sets in again
that he is gone, and with him, my heart.

4/1/00