The Last Time

This morning I was brushing my teeth and as I reached into my cupboard I saw all of your stuff again.

I didn’t know that last time would be the last time.

I would have traced your body on my bed. You would have laughed. Eyes closed I would have tried to remember every detail. Every bump. Every hair. Every scar. Every smell. Like a favorite song I would have desperately tried to memorize you.

But, I just didn’t know that last time would be the last time. I would have kissed your lips with my eyes open. And then again while closed.

Maybe I would have stolen a hair. I miss the smell of your hair.

Maybe I would have taken a picture of you.

I would have cried.

I cried this morning.

I’ve looked for you in the bodies of my lovers.

If I close my eyes I can almost feel your curves on them.

I can almost smell your hair in theirs.

I can almost feel your lips on their faces. That scar across your upper lip. Can you remember the first time we kissed? The street? Your truck? The lights?

Can you remember the first time you saw me? Your words? My smile?

Your hands?

I can almost feel them again.

Callused and strong.

Only if my eyes are closed though.

It’s been six months since months since I’ve seen you and I still can’t deal.