feel you. I feel you everywhere. The cloves on his clothes, the fountain on his skin. The words on his tongue, the breath on his lips. The hand on my neck, the sharp in his silence. Down the hall. Sitting in the study. Outside in the rain. At the open bathroom door. Or right in the corner of the room. Right here. Watching me. He was always coming. Or . . . Maybe I never left. His words came back to me.
Ahhhh
