The silence of my home this afternoon left me alone with my thoughts, the quiet sounds of the world outside doing little to pull me out of my head, little to stop the flashing scenes…my memories of you dropping before me like faded snapshots landing on the coffee table. My mind stained with the very real, intense remembrance of my all too brief time with you, my heart pounding when I close my eyes and let myself remember your smell, a smell unlike any other I had known…and a smell that has replaced my idea of what eroticism means….September
It is horrible for me when I begin to think of you, us, that night, the night I had you to myself for the first time….the way I had let myself think about it, but was sure it would never be, just thinking about that night and I become consumed, lost in a hedonistic swirl of aroma and faded snapshots……September
I busy myself with the chores of real life, wiping the counters, cleaning the floors, but in my feverish scrubbing of dusty corners and titillating memories, I find myself once again, short of breath with beads of sweat rolling down my back. I let my teeth dig into my bottom lip and long for a way to rid myself of this power you have, long for a cloth powerful enough to wash myself clean of you. My body grows tired, as if the mere aching, remembering and longing is draining every ounce of resistance, resilience and strength…..yet I still, miss you.
No matter how far away you are, how many months pass, for me….you are the single sexiest, debilitating memory, aroma, flavor that I have ever had. Clos Rougeard Saumur Blanc ($64.99) cannot wait until…..September.
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