Hand held aloft.
Milky sunlight slicing through the gaps in her fingers, burning into her retina.
The smell of his skin singed her nostrils. The memory of it. The recollection of a bittersweet activity that did not take place the previous eve.
Fingertips dance in the rays of sun, dust sifting through the atmosphere of the autumn morning.
Face at rest, perpetually unnerved.
She could remember the grazing feeling of his beard against her thigh. Butterfly kisses and sweat-induced flesh.
A body like none other he would experience again, protruding ribs and the marks of birth. A personal goddess in her own right, he cherished her body. It would continue to haunt him, much like the whispers of her voice or the stare of her mossy eyes.
An exchange of lust for passion.
Thick plumes of perfume and the sweetness of the alcohol streaming from his lips.
Lost in the wilderness of his icy eyes, he was a memory. A ghost. An ethereal spectre that haunted her dreams and abandoned her in the morn.
Raven hair spilled in a deep cascade across the white, linen sheets. Alone, but comfortably so.
His scarred form was no longer in her vision, like it used to be - covered strategically for modesty.
A feeling of wanting to reach over and stroke the tautness of his back built to it's peak before eventually subsiding. To which she gave a small smile of reminiscence, reclusive or no.
Alone did no longer feel so lonely.
