One She sat silently studying the crackling fire. She inhaled his blanket and fondled his giant beverage mug, empty. Her eyes burrowed into the burning logs, searching for him. His face flickered in the flames. She wept. After a few moments, she sobbed and wiped her nose with a Kleenex she had buried in her fist. She hummed a song they sang together in front of this fireplace. His soft tenor voice echoed in her memory, his sun-hewn hand wrapped tight around hers. As the embers glowed low now, the warmth drained from the room. Flickering Flames She nestled tighter into the corner of the sofa hoping to find some hidden heat to stave off the shivers that shook her now. She closed her eyes and kissed his soft strong lips which turned her to jelly each time they embraced. She wept. The grandfather clock in the hall struck twelve times. Her heart swelled and broke over and over, in throbbing waves, recalling his presence. She wrapped the blanket tight around her small, li...
"Always be a poet, even in prose." ~ Charles Baudelaire