You got to know
the taste of my skin
and sometimes
I still feel your scent on my sheets
It left a mark, like an imprint,
the aftertaste of a rose flavoured wine
mixing in with kisses and tongues
and your tears that I would dry
and salty sweat that tasted so sweet
I still picture You there
brush strokes shaping
to mimic your shoulders falling and rising
and your voice shaking
tension high as I would love You
once starved, we could finally be sated