She waits

Sitting in that alcove where the candlelight creates false silhouettes.

Where the smell of incense meets the smell of wax burning.

There where she lived, felt and loved. There she waits in case she hears her footsteps again on the stairs and then echoing in the long corridor.

He waits in case the door opens and he can see her smile. She waits to feel his caresses again, his voice that seduces her between whispers, to feel loved.

So she waits, lost in that spider's web of memories.

She waits to hear his name on her lips, his name that was caught in that memory among the smoke of those candles that burn out.

So before it is extinguished she lights another one, so that the memory lasts. So she waits.