Keepsake

A photo with you? Hand in hand, head on each other’s shoulder, gazing, smiling, into each other’s face or into the camera’s eye. A photo with you in the courtyard of the house? or a green meadow? or the café of our rendezvous? No! I have nothing, I have nothing of you but all my senses that mingled with you in the seconds of your caresses, days and nights, days and nights, they brought you like air, like pulse, beneath my skin. We have nothing of each other — O immense love — but all of each other...