The bed linens were layers of vibrant, bleeding reds staining the pinkness of her sheer nightie, sheets of red ribbons wrapping her thick brown legs, leaving the polished toes exposed to cool breezes entering through the opened window. The darkness of the winter night masquerading the early hour as much later, and she lays in the bed with her eyes fixed on the distance moon reflecting the alluring brown iris and its luminous shadow tracing the diamond tear facet drawing down her cheek.

The last of her body’s tremble ceased hours ago. She remembers the magnitude of desires being pulled from within, wave, after wave, leaving her to drown in the overflow of fiery wetness soaking the bed’s red sheets. She runs her fingers over the silkiness warmth and fullness of her body, repeating his name, to no response. Her inconsolable pleads ricocheted sharply off the walls leaving the only causality the retching pain ripping her heart from its lair, and disposing it on the carpet next to the dildo that was to be a temporary fix. She moans his name and the emptiness refuses to response. She lays and watches as the moon crosses the sky and meets the sun, and she starts another day, stained by his absence.