They tasted better with you
and I could kiss the space
your lips had been
the same ones that would turn to me
and be so sweet

And you would spit out the smoke
from talking lips
take a pause and concentrate
for it tasted the same as me

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

There's a tightness
in my throat
when I look to you.

I wanted to keep you special,
tied  you up in that tiny space,
all your memories kept like treasure,
but you became mundane,
engraved with gold in my days and life,
a part of the morning sky.

You painted my days in a lilac shade,
throwing red and blue my way
so that I could feel close to you
and find distance all the same.

There are storm clouds in this purple sky
ready to fall heavy with rain
as it drips from my eyes
that feel this indifference in disguise,
tries to hide this part of me
that cries from the inside
to be seen and be freed from these lies.

There's no peace in this demise
'cause the clock is ticking with time
moving quickly to divide
what is ours into what is mine.

You're a purple lover
always been on my mind
and still only a stranger
that I felt was too kind
but your presence is like wine,
gets me drunk, makes it sublime.

A writer's hands
are soiled in ink
and I know it
'cause I've written your name
over and over
and the black covers my skin
while I write of all your love
and all your pain and heartache