I remember your hand in mine, full and soft, clutched, hidden , and you, surprised, lingering around a conversation of no interest, just to stay and hold, to feel the warm moisture of palms, wrapped fingers; the fullness of you.
I remember your mouth, lips deep red, fresh and full like dew on morning flowers, honey delivered by a probing, teasing tongue, then a kiss, a kiss, a lingering, then a kiss again, a smile; then touch and taste.
I remember your voice, whispering and inviting; full and willing.
That is how you gave yourself to me.
I remember your eyes, once open and full, accepting, then small and hard, your face wrinkling from love to uncertainty; take me, you had said, and wondered; take me, you said, and stood puzzled when I did not.
Then parted, each stunned, confused.
What remains is silence.