Moistened

Staring at the ceiling,

As the moonlight peeps through my window,

 I lay in bed, still…

And you appear, wrapping your arms around me

You lie over me,

My chest embraces your dreary face

And no sooner,

My solitary longing comes crashing, defaced.

 

These hands,

They remain warm, lingers of your touch

These shoulders

They remain moist, soaked in your tears

These arms

Still stretched out, in reminiscence of your embrace

And these lips,

They still crave, that you’ve so fondly moistened.

 

What magic is this you provoke?

For your single smile, my all I’d gladly surrender

What life is this to call my own?

If my whole, to you, completely, I’ve not surrendered.

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