Following the line of your footsteps, your musk scent trails close behind you. Your fingers covering my fingertips, we fitting in this space empty and to ourselves.

In a quiet corner you order an Old-fashioned, just like in those old black & whites.

“I love you,” you always remind me.

I know. You worry my heart will leave earth without knowing your heart is mine.

You say, “Don’t be home feeling lonely, call me,” continuing, “And when he touches you… make sure to imagine me there.” You look at me with intention, always mixing the seriousness with a grin. I’ll miss you until the next time we say I love you again.

Until then your hand rests in mine, your other hand on my knee. You like to navigate the tension, the silkiness and my skirt’s thread with your full lips pressed to me.

The blue overflowing in all of the windows matching the bluer part of your blue eyes. The sun’s iridescent glow always hovering longer in summer before my indigo hits the night sky.