Nothing She Could Do

two lovers lay close
on a bed in a bedroom
where the air has grown stale.
each day a little more
out of habit than passion.
their eyes are closed.
she pretends that when hers open
reality will have somehow changed.
now, in the surreal hours of early morning,
she can pretend he loves her.
so her fingers lightly trail
through hair, over lips
down his sternum
to soft thighs.
memorizing, mapping
each beautiful feature intently
that this one sublime moment
may be captured.
she will store it away quietly
to remember him by.

[Shara Stough]