Your whiskey lips
are haunting me
with words of
what if
and what could be.

The dream of us may be more damaging I fear,
than where life has lead us to my dear.
I steer clear from your gaze for all the ways
they make me feel like old days;

scared, insecure, miserable,
happy.

"I just want one kiss",
a trip into bliss that you'll miss.
But your phantom lips have left me aching
from the past that we have been making.
And that pain has got me breaking.
Daydreaming a life from which I'm waking.

Back to reality,
a life cast in duality.
The world stripped of sensuality but revisited at night.
A happiness best taken in sips, and although I've woken, my heart rips
because I can still
feel
your
lips.