Am I all that you think about?
While your hands search for me in your bed, now a familiar route?
All that’s left behind is my scent that lingered in your room,
And a red lipstick kiss mark on the mirror in your bathroom.

You deeply long for me when I'm out of sight,
And then you ask me if I want to come over for the night.
You love the way I look during the late-night hours,
With fading makeup after our long and steamy showers.

Your unwavering gaze watches my shoulders glistening,
And I furrow my brows and wonder if you're actually listening.
You become mesmerized by the way my lips form words,
In our late-night talks until we hear songs from morning birds.

You find comfort in my loving embrace and affection,
But your eyes remain fixated on the curvature of my complexion.
Especially when I wear my garter belt with the strap,
Your mind wanders to what is in between my thigh gap.

Sometimes you are lucky, sometimes not,
Depending on how gently you tease and caress my soft spot.
You like it when I want it, when I want you,
When my gaze invites you closer with only one eye blue.

My sweet scent fills your nose and lungs,
And you can almost taste me at the tip of your tongue.
My breaths become deep and slow,
You watch each exhale as they leave my torso.

But our exchange is interrupted by a cigarette
Being held between lips that glossed shiny when wet.
The cherry burns as bright as your desire,
And all you want to do is quench your own fire.

The last remaining evidence of me is that lipstick-covered ****,
And the window I left open and didn't completely shut.
There aren't any clothes that you can smell or hold,
But you search for me anyway in the room now dim and cold.

You look at your phone as it's almost night again,
And find yourself thinking of me more than every now and then.
You start to miss the familiarity you've become used to,
And you wonder if I know or even have a clue.

But I am a quiet passerby, barely leaving a trace,
Yet you can't stop thinking about caressing the side of my face.
My presence is mysterious as if I were a ghost,
Yet I am the girl that you think of the most.

You can't get what you want because I won't let you have it,
You want me to yourself yet refuse to be honest and admit.
You are left wondering what it means and what we are,
But I love the chase and the progress we've made so far.

The next time you see me, your heart skips a beat,
And we later find ourselves tangled in your bedsheet.
Our bodies unify as you gaze into my eyes,
Then watch as you make my back arch for the skies.

We collapse together and drift into a dream,
Until you open your eyes to the same recurring theme.
You search for me on the other side of your bed,
And find nothing but a few strands belonging to a redhead.

Am I all that you think about?