Wednesday, October 06, 2010

What we forget

I remember the winter, loving the sight of his brown leather shoes on my living room floor. I remember the summer, his shirt hanging above me in a tree on a mountain. I remember last fall, wrapped in his arms, shivering from the cold and hopeful--and soon I'll remember his tanned, strong legs, his warm breath on the back of my neck, and all the times I knew he loved me.

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