never never ever

skin warmed with the press
of bodies,
candlelight dying in pools of wax –
she wouldn’t even close
her eyes because that would be like
forgetting.
and he curls his hand over her waist,
thumb resting on the jut of her
hipbone, tempting above
the low rise of her jeans,
memorizing.
there was poetry in that smile,
maybe one day for her.

a/n: It's shadows all the time with me.