perfection

i remember how her hair smelled
when I used to cradle in the nook
between her head and her shoulder
like a cat snuggling up firmly against a leg
finding the closest spot possible

she called those spots “Perfection.”
she would run her lips against my face
and every nook they found was deemed “perfect.”

it’s funny but I have trouble understanding
what perfect means anymore.
now that she’s gone.

it’s not funny but eternally sad
to know that I can’t find those spots with her anymore.
it’s not funny but unforgivably torturous
to be without her for so long.

i close my eyes and stretch my mind to find her across the oceans and seas.
as I will myself closer, her freckles start to focus.
i can see the sparkle in her eyes that used to get us in trouble.
i close my eyes and I can feel her lips against mine
i can feel her hair gliding across my fingers
beautiful black silky thick hair
that smells like freshly cut flowers.

© july 2005

spooning image