Hand holding up a sheet of crumpled paper that says memories against sunny background

Dear Diary by Anon

Dear Diary

Today I looked at the person next to me at Yoga and all I could do was think of their shape and the memories it inspired.  How laying there in the dark covered in sweat and silent other than heaving for breath reminded me of another.  

How our bodies went together once and how they might will fit together now?  How they taste? How they writhe when they orgasm? That is a memory I savour.  How I was able to use my mouth and hands endlessly and drive them to the edge and over again and again.  

Perhaps this is the year when they can experience me, and I them, all over again.  

I gather my breath, open my eyes and see the person next to me looking at me, our eyes meet, they smile, slowly gather their things and walk away. I drink in their silhouette, remembering, as they do.

 I think of the other, the one I remember, for a few more moments. Then take my leave. I smile and nod as I pass my yoga companion.  I really should introduce myself.


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