Dear Lover,
If only thinking about you with much concentration could put you in my arms again, weaving our limbs into a basket that hides our hearts in a secret place. I think my soul loves you. The coil of your hair beneath my limp fingers…I think my heart knows you. The warmth of your body wrapped around mine, your thigh sandwiching my thigh, your hands busy busy building nests in my hair, the light of your smile in the darkness.
You listen to the rush of words when I’m too excited to remember to speak slowly. Our hearts still hide in a secret place. I laugh. I forget though it has never been forgotten, the feel of willing fingers playing a sweet melody in my palm. I remember, lips soft on lips, laughter in a secret place, laughter patches on a fragmented heart. I think my soul knows you. I think my heart loves you.