Unfinished

The fluttering of your voice still rings in my ear,
awakening the corners of my lips;
becoming the crescent moon outside.
Each echo from the wind returns you back to me.
Your lingering smell is stained on my skin
and the touch of your fingertips delays itself;
as if to taunt your very being.
That look, in those dark pools remains within my memory,
the radiance and love swimming inside -
leaves me hanging on to memories.  

(Source: flowerlilies, via flowerlilies)