- Vol. 04
- Chapter 05
This room has been marked by you; Your imprint is in the walls Rollered yellow, Tacked in the curtain hems, The re-upholstered chairs in royal blue Laid out in the duo of Persian rugs.
You cover the three-piece suite, Rest in the melody of your compact discs, The pages of every book, The mounted prints and photographs, The polished glass and wood.
But no one knows how your hands press Into my white flesh, splay across the folds And curves, how your fingers Entice, bring my body to life Against your handmade cushion covers.
You have stitched my heart to yours, Swept the cobwebs of doubt away. When I go, your imprint is fire to my bones. I wonder if my hand leaves an echo in that room On the walls, on the rugs, on the chair, on you.