The woman with a messy chestnut colored hair.

I remember the woman with a messy hair.
It's as if she just doesn't care what her hair looks, not like most girls I dated before.
I remember her eyes.
Her beautiful brown eyes and her pupils that dilate whenever she sees me.
The way we'd smile when our eyes would met even if we were in the far corner of the room from each other and how her eyes would always look oblivious to how cruel the world is.
I remember her nose.
How I always think that it was cute because she has a small nose for her face and her nose would ofter flare up when I made her angry or made her laugh that she'd ask me to stop because her stomach might burst from laughing too hard.
I remember her lips.
It was as if God made those lips into a river of water, always clenching away my thirst. Her lips is like a magnet,really. One minute I was in the kitchen preparing for breakfast, the next thing you know I was there beside her on our kitchen table, asking for a kiss that she'd whole heartedly oblige by wrapping her arms around my neck, making the kiss grow deeper.
I remember the sweet love makings.
How her skin felt against my own. Soft and velvet-like.
How her soft moans echoed across our small room which turns me on every time.
How she arched her body when my lips hit the right spot.
How she cried a soft cry of extacy when we both reach our climax.

I remember everything.
I have a bad case of short term memory but with her, I can still remember vividly the memories we made even after she left. It's as if it just happened yesterday even in reality she left 6 months ago.
Some nights I find myself staring blankly in an unfamiliar room.
I realized she was the one who makes a house a home.
Without her a room is just a room, a kitchen table is just a kitchen table, a bed is just a bed and I'm just nothing but a tired soul still searching for pieces of her in every woman I come home with.
A part of me still stays with her wherever she goes.
A part of me still wishes to wake up from the nightmare of not having to wake up next to her, feel her skin and just be able to see her laugh at my stupid jokes.
A part of me still has not given up hope that one day she will come back.

The woman with a messy chestnut colored hair still has my heart and I won't have it any other way.