her pink nose twitches.
the scent of your sweet cologne
permeates her nostrils.
the minuscule rosebud points to heaven
sniffing around in the dark for you.
fluffy white puff balls
bat the black yarn back and forth
pounding the inside of my skull,
a taunting metronome
pulsing your name:
a bitter waltz.
one, two, three
one, two, three
Dance of the memory
kittens
cloaked in the black silky strands
that my fingers once caressed.
the pads of their feet,
soft,
freckled,
your skin.
c'est tout.
I applaud
but the kittens will give no encore,
their mouths pursed in the same way
your tender lips once were when your face
fa d e d a w a y
into the dark recesses of my mind.
my fingers reach out
slowly, gently, so as not to alarm,
not to disturb their steady purring,
the droning stream of prickly memories.
Just one touch will surely
smooth their coarse manes.
But those fickle felines
with their fickle hearts
elude my grasp which proves too harsh.
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