I remember the scent by the hearth,
where you and I laid that night.
The sweet oil of ylang ylang permeating,
My heart, it beat wildly from your touch,
there was nothing I wanted more,
and as our feet entwined by flickering flames encased only
by metal and heated glass,
I wonder now, did you feel the same?
a sense of wild abandon,
a striking feeling between my shoulder blades,
as though I’d been sledged in the middle,
split into two,
one piece for me,
and the other for you.
Then with your magical touch I would conjoin once more,
become the woman that you’ve always loved and adored,
and now I understand that it can take a mere whiff of a scent to
dredge up a wanted memory,
from something, somewhere, that was encased so pretty.
By the hearth, my dear, is how I most remember you,
by the fire,
wild and free,
flames flickering with ease,
and I can smell that carrier oil,
which we used in its purest form,
to tide the gentlest touches into firmer movements
until the morn.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by judenicholson from Pixabay
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