The marks you left are already fading, faint yellow traces of our clutching and writhing.  As I step into the shower, the scent of you washes down my face and I inhale the very last bit of you before it can be replaced with distance.  I smile as I discover little hairs and crumbles of tobacco stuck to my skin like our final clinging embraces and watch them swirl down the drain and away.  Salty tears splash on my breasts as I lean against the tiled wall and wish you were there behind me.  I feel silly for feeling so alone, for being so damnably sentimental over everything about you, but I clutch my memories of you because I know the time between us is almost more than I can bear.  But bear them I will with a brave face, waiting as patiently as I can to bathe in your touches once more.

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