Bare Walls

I’ve lived in my new apartment for just over a month but I still haven’t hung my pictures on the walls.  Yet, there you are.  You and me.  That night.  After everything.  I liked the way you told me to stand up.  You knew just what to do but you’d never done it all those months.  But then, finally – And now, when I lie in bed alone, I look at the bare white walls and I see my hand, your fingers between mine.  I feel my fingernails scrape against the paint.  I feel your hand in my hair, pulling – just a little.  And I feel my body on the white and your body on mine.  I smell your sweat and the paint, still fresh.