Sullen was the taste I tasted pasted on her lips,
flavored by the monsoon tune of when our love was split.
Blazing through the midnight madness tangled in these sheets, seething from the fleeting glimpses of our love disease.
Entranced against a lamp post looking for her grin.
I just can't forget the way she tasted in her skin.
Thinking that I saw her everywhere I look, sadness welling up inside every time that I mistook.
I can see her in perfection on my eyelids inside, walking with her confidence in every single stride.
Watching closely, as her beauty begins to  harmonize.
Dreaming of the taste I tasted pasted on her lips, as the corner of her mouth curled up in to a grin.
The moral, of to take one more taste of her,
Is to taste her taste once more, the taste of her once more.