A Memory

alyssa duran

He blinks at me, his eyes the deepest carmine touch of brown I've ever seen.   

It happens effortlessly, I cannot control it, yet I forget myself for long, trembling minutes,

intoxicated by his presence.   

I cannot tell if it is unease or a kind of delicious novelty.   

Or maybe familiarity, so sharp it burns.   

Such a paradox, the way the sight of him ignites me.  

My body, bruised and scarred, yet healing and aching all at once.   

I ache to reach out, to brush my fingers along his skin, to feel the warmth of him, even the slightest graze enough to spark a shiver.   

I want to whisper, Oh, how I've missed you.