Secrets Wrapped In Old Silk Sheets

His taste stands in view on her horizon. A savored burn that slides across her mind to rest in her secrets.
Opening hour comes to surface her fingers glide across the skin to reveal the memory beneath the layers of worn and decaying silk sheets.
His scent flows to her nostrils to flood her forgetful mind, a memory distant seeps through her veins so that she can feel the way she did clenched to him.
His moon shines beside hers, a light blinding out all else. Words, letters they wrote across skies stain her nights with memory she savored in her secrets wrapped in tattered, worn, stained and aged silk sheets.
His image comes to stand on her canvas and thus she paints to bring him life... but life was only a memory for him, all that remained were ashes of his embodiment, a picture in a broken frame, his name that cries from her lips to reach what has gone away, and the words, the letters she wrote but never got to say, and they remain her secrets... remain locked and wrapped away for her to savor in his memory when she pulls silk sheets away.