While sleeping, she dips her toes into pools of shimmering oil. While breathing, she slips between layers and visits every lover that’s had her right where they wanted. Each one left his mark, and each one is now but a shadow by the side of the road. Squeezing tight her eyes, she sees the smiles, and she sees the lines, but every night they blur a little bit more. Some kissed her while others bit and clawed. Some held her tight while others pushed her away. Sometimes she cried, sometimes she felt nothing at all, and as the hours pass without sound, she wonders what became of those lovers. Do they still think of her? Do they keep her close when they too are wrapped in darkness? When the moment came, and they shuddered between her legs, some looked at her while others looked at the ceiling. Some wiped the sweat from her brow while some slipped a thumb beneath her tongue. Which one was I? Does she remember me with tenderness, or am I but a shadow that drifts by as she passes in search of those who meant much more? When silence is all there is, and there’s no one else, am I a face she pulls close, or am I left to wander until what remains of our love is nothing more than dust?