I can remember her silhouette dressed in the ambiguity
of a memory, taunting me with the sway of her hips
and the depth of eyes, the apex of her thighs
covered by shadows stretched daunt across her
legs and hips and body, a dark dress that hides
from me the details of her skin.
She has dimples, I remember though I can't draw
them now across her face, on each cheek at the
corner of her wide smile which I, as careful as
only a poet can be, draw and reconstruct
with awkward verses of a memory that
never was but I wanted it to be.
I don't recall if I held her of if she held me, but
I do remember her legs tight on my waist
straddling the cradle of my hips
as she bounced up & down.
There, she laughed, too,
in a quiet, meek but potent
hum, a staccato of giggles
mingled with her exasperated
breath... She laughed, giggled,
draping lazy arms over my
shoulders. She smiles, with
her lips spreading into a grin
and brushing mine in the process.
There, so close, I remember holding
my breath like a true romanticist. I
would try to describe the proximity,
my heart's beating anxiety, the
cold contrast of her skin on mine,
the heat between us, the flesh
of her chest against me, the vibrations
I called laughter reverberating through
her skin and into mine... I'd try to decide
on a word to describe her smile, there
and then; it was lazy like her arms around
my shoulders, it was warm like the heat
of the tension around and between us,
it was like a memory, ambiguous but real.