The taste of it,
like cigarettes and tears.
Before the heat
from his embrace
had left her body,
before the taste of his lips
had faded from her mouth,
he was gone from view.
She ached for his presence
before she realized
that he was really gone,
and though she said
no more tears would be shed,
she cried
as the sun rose.
She made her way toward the bed
that sat unmade,
still holding his scent,
their scent.
There she laid down
and let that smell wrap around
and comfort her.
She imagined that
he held her again,
that his lips
were on her forehead
and she finally slept,
dreaming that he was still there,
would always be there.