I'm at it again. Just when I thought I had lost him. The smile he presented to me. Like a king worshipping his queen.
I'm at it again. These hands are burdened by the loss, absence and quietness of his mahogany. Every arch his body made made my hands tremble with joy. Divinest.
I'm at it again. His posture, his walk, his eyes. Like a lion marking its territory. Like a hunter strolling with pride across the brown and dusty ground. Like an Ethiopian king.
I'm at it again. On and on. And on. Till infinity. My hips, my thighs, my lips, the crown on my head and my feet are at it again. Till infinity.
Yet, his motions are less. His gestures are pointless. His smiles are dull.
But still I'm at it again.