Poem: No Title

I can still feel your touch on my skin.

Sometimes it is like a feather,

so soft it barely makes an impact.

Other days I can feel the muscles of your palm,

as you hold on to my shoulder.

Your lips, I do no longer remember what they taste like.

I imagine strawberries and the velvet smoothness of deep red wine.

Is this how your kiss tasted?

Like something slightly forbidden, but too delicious to ever refrain?

Or was it far sweeter,

like spring and elderflowers mixed with the thickness of clotted cream?

Why can I not remember?

You are lying next to me in bed.

I hear you breathing in and out.

Steady like a heartbeat.

A constant I want to cling to.

Your hand is warm next to mine and I grab it.

There you are, I think.

But even now my heart misses you.

I can feel your touch on my skin.

Once it felt like the forbidden fruit, Eve so desperately wanted to taste.

When did it become as stale as the thought of eternal banishment from Eden?

I still remember your fingertips following the curve of my neck,

your body pressed against mine

and the longing to crawl in even further

to become one

to become you.

Where are you now?

Your body lies next to me, yet you seem miles away

a wall is standing invisibly where once we were connected.

And as morning dawns

like a body split in half

you and me do part.

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