Pensive

I can still feel you
not something to be proud of, I know
but on lazy Mondays, or those
morning-afters
when I can’t remember where I am
before sleep runs from my bed
I indulge.
My sisters have never met you
and for that I am happy
but that means
they’ll never understand
the pull across my skin-
even in my mind,
making everything all right.

I’ve learned to make connections
(the sun shines in my window
caressing me with warmth and light
orangehot touch reminds me of you)
to carry me through.