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.