Poetry, Day 3: Skin, Prose Poetry, Internal Rhyme
So painfully obvious from the pale shade of your skin was the recognition of your absence. And as you slept, your familiar form did lay motionless before me, unable to console me as it once did. Many tears I cried for the absence of goodbye, and so it was I wept. I longed to feel your warm embrace, but still the hue of your familiar face, grey and bruised from whence you did lay, was a cheerless reminder of your cold absence. So intense the urge to hold you, yet, even greater the desire to recall your last touch; the touch of your skin warm against mine. Rejecting the cold, I opted to hold a single rose taken from your resting place. A gentle kiss I did give it, and pressing the flower to each of your cheeks, I continued to weep. I repeated the gesture, tears rolling like raindrops to drench you with my love. Kissing the rose once more, I rested it upon your mouth, sealing your lips with a farewell kiss. And then to your eyes, eyes which were closed so tight that I might not see the absence of your smile. Holding on to the memory of your warm embrace, I pressed the rose upon your face. And there I remained, showering you with my warm thorny kisses.