First drops of sunlight
that shines across your body,
where you lay asleep on
your side of the dishevelled bed.
This coffee tastes
as bitter as you were last night
but this cigarette smoke tastes like
the one we shared at
3am this morning.
The alcohol seeping
through my veins
reminds me of how you
infected me with your poison
when we first met.
Your name is on the tip of my tongue
and your breath is caught in the middle of my lungs
just like it was four hours ago
when your body was on top of mine
and you were burning me with your touch
Your scent still hangs around me
in a cloud of ****,
lynx
and ***.
And the ghost of your hand in mine seems almost real
that I forget you are no longer holding it.
Your kiss still lingers on my lips
like the teeth marks you left on my neck
and the scratches down my back.
Your words still ring in my ears
and my memory decides to play me a slideshow
of every image I have of you -
this will be a long night, yet it is barely even mid day.
The air is cold, colder than you
and you don't hold me anymore.
Every breathe I take will not be
because of you,
every cigarette will not have
the trace of your lips,
yet my body will still remain with
the touch of your fingertips,
a maze of marks and bruises,
a labyrinth of complications
and desires.