Gone

The laugh in her smile, the quiver of her frown, the tone of her voice, the manner of her speech, the expression in her eyes, the shape of her face, the fullness of her mouth, the curve of her lips, the turn of her neck, the slope of her shoulders, the sweep of her arms, the grace of her hands, the touch of her fingers, the trim of her nails, the fullness of her breasts, the sway of her hips, the length of her stride, and the gentleness of her step perfectly complimented the desires of my heart, and each day I basked in the joy of her presence.

Then she was gone, leaving a void that would not fold itself back into the tapestry of life but stood before me as a yawning chasm of lonely emptiness, haunting me with memories of who she was and what she meant to me, chastising me over my lack of courage to have embraced her more fervently, to have pleased her more passionately, and to have loved her more urgently.

I cried to the heavens to take from me the ache in my heart but the heavens were silent, and I begged the hands of time to ease my pain but the only reply concerning relief from my sorrow, "Not today, perhaps tomorrow."