Last Sigh
and still she remembers that first sigh -
exhaling after breathing him in, the
intoxicating him beside her, arms touching,
dust dancing in the air from his skin to hers. The
streets they walked together were mapped
in ink, blue and black footprints on a landscape
of knowing winks and hushed laughter; seeing
his mouth smiling in the bending letters of street
signs, his playful fingers in branches overhanging
a park. But when he left, her shoes became erasers
rubbing their walks from cobblestones and their
handholding from benches, her footprints eroding
where she once remembered his gait in the swaying of
a pub sign, heard his voice in the splash of paws in
puddles. As she remembers that first sigh of such
promise, that luxurious breeze of young passion and
dizzying air of a first love, she struggles, now, to breathe
silence.
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