You came and went, as if to further implicate that time was bending, swollen like a dream. Traces of you still linger in desk drawers. Fleeting scents tangled in threads, tugging back moments and blurring memories, drunken on my tears. Your exit dusted the silence, hushing the garden to stillness, soil soaking, waiting for the sun to kiss it to life. My thoughts slip to the orchard, young lovers kissing between the pomegranate and fig trees, branches breaking under the weight of fruit.
I love eating the apples in my house because your fingers have touched them and whisper to my lips to be found. Kisses living vicariously through blushed skin and sweet flesh.
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