I still see you sometimes in my bed early in the morning when I don't know where I am. I'm not a young man anymore Mione.

I can't drink you away.

Remember the time you made us a big breakfast and when we went to eat it on the balcony, the sky split open and drenched everything in rain? That's the day you started taking your coffee black. No cream. No sugar. If God wanted a woman that beautiful to cook he would have made Aphrodite the goddess of the harvest instead.

It was your punishment for depriving me of your warm body that early in the morning.

My hands are paper and brittle now like glass, but these hands remember the pleasure they brought to you once. I look at them now and I can almost see your mouth part, sighing. I see your beautiful brown eyes everywhere.

Always asking. Always prying.

Didn't you know that you should have taken them with you, you silly girl?

When it rains, I open the window in my room and smell the wet earth, and it reminds me of the time you came to my door soaked to the bone. You had decided to take a walk because it was a beautiful day, and I stood in the door laughing. But I'm sure that's when I had lost my heart to you. Your hair was a matted mess and you looked like an angry wet dog, but in that moment I wanted nothing more than to take you to my bed and, excuse this old dog for his language, fuck you until I memorized every scar, every scratch on your body.

If I remember correctly, there were quite a few.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Mione. When the orderly comes by and asks me if I've taken my medicine, I tell him I have, but I've been collecting them in a little vase on the side of my bed. They tell me I have a high blood pressure. That's a load of bull if I've ever heard any. Maybe if they stopped always asking me questions, and checking in on me like a child, I wouldn't be so mad all the time. I miss you when I remember to. My memory isn't what it used to be. Sometimes I forget what you look like and it scares me. The day I forget your face I'm convinced that the sun won't shine as bright and it'll rain every day, but I won't be able to taste it. To smell it.

I remember the first time I saw you. It's been years but I remember those brilliant brown curls that would catch on just about anything. There was always a ghost of a smile on your lips like you knew a brilliant secret. I wish I could ask you now about the beautiful thoughts you carried around in that head of yours.

But I suppose I'll have to be patient and ask you the next time I see you.

Your socks would slide down your thin legs, and I'd get a view of the smooth, tanned skin. On more than one occasion I'd wanted to run my hands up them and rub my thumbs along your knees.

Innocently of course. Just to hear the sound of your laughter like hot coffee on a gloomy day. Enough to sit in the back of a man's mind.

I remember how you would sit in bed, your bare back exposed to me, shining in the pale light of the moon. Your face so beautiful, lost in distant thoughts I couldn't even imagine to fathom. You would hide your face the moment you realized I was staring, and it pained me to know you could never be mine completely. The same way you can bottle up the water of a spring but can never control it. The water will continue to be water and slip between your fingers granted the opportunity.

You are a celestial being. And I'm honored to have burned in your light.

I would fly into your flames for a chance to become engulfed by you once more, my sun. I am but a humble moth, and you, my muse. I see you in my dreams.

Remember to take me with you next time, you selfish woman.