Sometimes I dig for it. The lost fragment of my hips, The way they swayed in front of your lips. Now lost among the shredded portrait of our kiss.
I shove my fingertips into the night, looking among the velvet moon and starlight Between his long legs, underneath her tongue's site Hoping to taste that bittersweet comfort of pain and flight.
To savor the honesty in the style I loved you the silent mockery of poetic words desperately glued to the confused pupils of your green eyes which unconsciously threw those words of commitment under sly smiles and hidden hands tracing my tattoos.
But sometimes I find it after a couple of beers and a sip of smoke. Do you remember the rhythm those humid nights provoked? They infected my brain with wanderlust and the feeling when time chokes on whatever logic a perfect second shouts at the unawareness of a lover's hope.