SHE

Melting wax off a smoldering candle, she was weak in the knees.
The parameters of her demeanor bound only by my potent gaze.
Her lips moved continually; her eyes did the talking. She said what she had to, albeit, perhaps, not what she wanted to.
There was a dove like peace about her fluttering, a swan like calm where she floated.
A certain serenity enveloped her being.
A devilishly angelic aura separated us.
But she was closer; closer than she was physically aware.
I knew.
She was determined in her resolve.
Yet, unsure of it. Her resolve that is.
She is not here now.
But she is.
She doesn’t know.