In the misty shadows, she walks a specter, a flash of paint in an obscure painting, A beauty in memory, or an imagined smile. A man could surely fall for the mystic miss, a kiss in waiting and fading fast. Every last encounter with her could be just that. Alluring and luring you to the wind-torn seas, breezes to gusts and a bluster of rapid heartbeats, precious and scary to think she keeps you on the brink of your demise. You’d be wise to walk away and yet you stay. Love trapped within her portrait, and Jennie’s been dead for years!
He watched the sunset on the horizon hoping that she might be caught in that same moment where night and the remnants of day melt into hues of muted grays and orange. The crash of waves mimics the exhalation of her rapidly beating heart, gasps of passion rushing and falling; calling him to resuscitate her. Nightfall continued and darkness was the shroud that hid them upon this shore many times lost, in the heated rhythm of their lovemaking taking every last breath from the depths of the conjoined souls. Every last star beckoned him and the moon cast shadows on the memory of her flesh beneath his own. And he felt her; she permeated his very being, seeing nothing but her eyes as beacons in the night. He reaches to touch her in ways she had always longed. Her presence was all this night lacked. Fade to black.