Your voice changed my mood like a chameleon. Flooding my mind in deep nostalgia, I am surrounded by reminders of what pleasures we partook, we indulged, we unapologetically did, we confidently said and we therapeutically wanted. We ravaged, we begged, we, were, human.
Your scent still leaves a trace that even a bloodhound could find. Roses vanilla and a hint of cinnamon; my tongue tingles from the pleasure of closing my eyes, reanimating the masterpiece that went down at your unguarded borders.
But, I kept it cool when you introduced your new boyfriend.
'Hello this is__'
I replied 'What's up, the names Kitarō'
But as I spoke, I could tell we were harmoniously in sync when he called out your name twice; no response escaped your lips.
The third time triggered your body to respond; when your crimson lips were finally free from it's white prison it was photographically known of what was unsaid on your beautiful luscious red painted canvas