No refund, no return
Slowly he opens his eyes. Stretching languidly and savoring
every sore muscle. Every thought, movement and sweet memory.
Closes his eyes once again, he buries his face in the pillow.
Her scent lingers and engulfs him with erotic pleasure. Much as
he adores the musing, he loves her more. Turns over to hold her
in his arms again...and again.
Empty sheets lie beneath his outstretched palm...empty and
cold? Has he overlooked something? No, no they had made plans
for breakfast out this morning! Oh, she must be in the
kitchen making coffee. But no, he does not smell coffee. No
pungent welcoming morning smell. No familiar chickory scent.
Tripping over sheets that had so recently enveloped lovers,
he runs to the living room and feels.....lost, panic rules his emotions.
Her coat, the things she had with her last evening have vanished.
A faint whisper of fragrance lingers in the air. It rebukes him,
taunts him, laughs and teases him.
After a pain filled year without her, he finds her. In the club
last night. Standing by the dance floor with that quixotic smile on
her face. So similar to when they first started out, be believes it
must be his imagination. He orders a drink, certain that when he
next turns around she will not be there. A cypher, a ghost.
He has spent a better part of this last agonizing year, searching, calling,
despairing. Never giving up...only gave in to the inevitable pain
the grind of what he calls life.
They had enjoyed a month of bliss few ever experience.
She was there, She was THERE with him. He questioned his
good fortune each of those 30 days. He begged her to stay with him.
She is his everything, a once in a life time experience. STAY he pleads.
He recalls her throwing her head back and laughing...but still, she stays.
Hand holding, warmth of body to body. Making love at all hours.
Just to gaze at her while she did mundane things, all were a thrill to
Did he stop for one moment...just a precious minute and ask.....
“what does she feel”?
With regret, coursing through his deeper being he admits to having
done none of this...her smile, her passion has led him to believe.
Rushing home, what a wonderful word, it IS home with her there.
Roses in hand a plan for a night out, he finds the loft devoid of her
presence. There is nothing of her there, nothing but his memories.
And yet, here she stands. Almost regal, the way she holds
herself...the black dress, pearls and aura of 'me'.
He cares not. He takes hold of his drink, his heart and walks over.
'baby' he says...she turns and oh God, there is that smile!
Smirk some may say. But HE knows...he has seen that smile in
bed, at their most intimate moments. HE knows it weeps vulnerability.
Putting his drink down..he takes her hand gently in his, leads her out
the door and onto Broadway. She has said nothing...just holds his hand
tightly. A cab ride, and their back at his loft.
He walks back into the bed room, eyes wet with tears and steps on
something hard, unyielding. Bending down he finds a pearl.
And another, more until he discovers what must have been the
She is gone...she will not be back