New Memories 
She lay across the bed,

Smiling, he stroked her hair

“We should eat,” he says.

She doesn’t move, but sighs

Nods in agreement then rise. 

They walked to the kitchen 

Kissing, giggling, and holding hands.

Searching the fridge for ingredients,

Finding a skillet, oil and a sharp knife 

He clung to her near the warm stove.
Minutes later finger fed morsels 

Passed between them with delight.

Most evenings, dinner was early, 

Cozy and ate partially in the nude

Followed by a little too much wine.
They barely separated physically 

Until it was time for their shower,

When they would wash each other 

Then cling together dripping wet

Understanding it wasn’t goodbye.
This had become a ritual

Every evening they would spend

Hours saturated with each other.

Whenever the night divided them

She’d simply say,  “See you tomorrow.” 
He would later enter his own home 

Immune by now to the frigid cold,

The pretenses, and the emptiness.

Filled with the warmth of her

And some brand new memories.

Ria 2017

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