Your sly crooked smile
your lips twitching
asking
for a kiss.

Your heart thumping
in my ear
as I lay on your chest.

Your glances you would sneak
just to me, just for me,
when we were with others.

Your cold fingers
relaxed and posable,
in my nervous hands.

The sound of the door,
as it closed,
that last night.

The sting of finality,
restricting my lungs,
collapsing my throat.

The tears streaking
my numb face.
My first hollow, shaking breath.

My memories. Our memories.
That I am dying, just dying,
to forget.