Telling Me Stories
I remember the smoke rising from your lips, a hint of vanilla as I kissed your fingertips. You were the cook, and I played the strings. Oh, the looks you would give me as I would sing. Songs of the good old days and all the fun things to do when it rains. It was in those moments that I fell for you. When I close my eyes at night, I can hear your voice telling me stories. I wish you were still here; I wish you were my wife, yet all I have are these memories.
— Nicole Barden 3/24/2022

