old times.

you open your arms for a goodbye hug and i move into them.
my head goes to that once familiar place, the curve of your neck,
and i make a little noise in the back of my throat,
like a child.
i close my eyes, as my lips nearly brush your skin.
i can feel the heat rising off you.
i can remember the silver smoothness
where i used to run my fingers,
when we were together.
you smell like safety,
but i cannot fall back.