One memory stands out from the rest.  Something shared over many years that has been lost for ages.  If you were left to remember it on your own, chances are you would not.  Then one day you smell a perfume.  It is not a popular brand but a distinct fragrance that you have only smelled one time before early in your years.  She was magnificent.  She was your first, in many ways.  You search the area and find yourself longing to be young again.

Close your eyes and find what you lost

The box was sealed over a decade ago
Total darkness has become a way of life
No cracks, no holes, no light
Air fed in through a tube
Movement restricted to a small square
No jumping for joy, no dancing
No horses to ride or walks to take
Blank expressions match the void of the box
Screaming is heard by no one
Banging the sides only brings echoes
Visions replay in the mind of the last moments
What happened before then runs together
One image overwhelms the rest
The pillow, a plain white pillow, nothing special
Why would this be, when there is a pillow in the box
What is so special about this particular pillow
The darkness of the box has kept it all
There is a smell of perfume, an impression of two heads
A gentle sigh feels the box, but from where
The mind is playing tricks again, don’t listen
Don’t be fooled by the voice outside of the box
For so many years the voice has been there
For so many years having longed for it to be real
For so many years having cried when no one answers
For so many years disappointment and pain
The pillow, the voice, the perfume, the impressions
Were they ever real, in the darkness, is it just a dream
A glimpse into the future, or a longing from the past
The voice is louder now and there is writing on the walls
Someone is writing on the walls, it is real this time
The voice is deafening, and so beautiful, an angel
Heavenly sounds fill the darkness, please don’t wake up
The aroma of the perfume fills the lungs, burning, longing
Quiet overcomes everything, once again no sound
Blinding is the light, so powerful it is crippling
Lifted by a voice, carried on waves of perfume
As though a decade were a day, miniscule is time
If the eyes open does the dream stop, is it a dream
The arms that wrap are so real, the touch so soft
The lips that kiss, have been felt before
Were the dreams real, the pillow, the perfume
The impressions, were they ever real
Opening the eyes reveals another
Eye to eye and heart to heart once again
Entangled in each other as if one
Arms outstretched, fingers interlocked
Tears fall, backs arch, and wonderful perfumes abound
The blank expressions of so many years
Replaced by smiles, exhilaration, and exhaustion
Breathing and heartbeats are the only sounds
Face to face
Filling the impressions
On the pillow