I can still hear it sometimes
the sharp trill of your laugh
at something I've done or said
the giggle behind your voice
as you mock me for it.

I can still see it sometimes
the lines that form so quickly
when you smile
the light in your eyes
when I've done something sweet for you

I can still taste it sometimes
the gentle musk of your lips
barely parted against mine
the muffled breath
as you whisper tenderness

I can still feel it sometimes
the pounding of your hear
when you held me close afraid i would slip away
But i did not slip then i went
rather i was shoved
Not by pulled by some new face
not fallen out of interest
but shoved, by none other than you.

And sometimes i can feel that too.