Forlorn Widow's Sensual Despair

The echo of her late husband's laughter still lingers in the air as she sits alone in their bedroom, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows that dance with their fading memories. She clutches his favorite shirt to her chest, inhaling his scent, a sob catching in her throat. Her body yearns for his touch, her fingers tracing the curves of her body, imagining his strong hands instead. She lays back, her eyes closed, her mind filled with their passionate encounters, her body responding to the ghostly touch, her breath hitching as she finds her release, calling out his name, her heart breaking and healing all at once.

• she
• will
• be
• missed

• Unknown