Postcoital

These things she can touch:

A wisp of hair,

The curve of her neck,

Her flushing cheek.

Instead:

She remembers their kiss

And she waits.

Watercolour painting is tricky, but I think this one has worked out well. The subtle changes in the intensity of the background colour are like a mist or perhaps tear stains, and the female figure is discernible, but incomplete. I enjoy the painting so much more because of its pairing with the poem. There are days when life is new and shiny and nights when ghosts tap and sigh upon the glass -- Postcoital was written during the latter time. Although I wrote it when relfecting on one particular man, the sentiment of the poem is applicable to many of the men I've known. Even when I think I have no emotional attachment to someone or I've severed the attachment, there always seems to be the ghost of one lurking in the mist.