i. my room is stained by you;
the lilting linger of your scent
(even after so many months)
dancing with the dreams
(and the tears) on my pillow,
the imprints of where
your body has been is
burned into the cold sheets
ii. how'm I supposed to forget you at one in the morning
(or two)
(or three)
when your smell surrounds me
like a distant memory,
fearing the slightest brush
of my lonely fingertips
iii. I can remember
exactly the spots you had lain in;
I can still hear your words,
your laughter, coating the walls
of this room that I will never
wish to wash free of you
iv. how did you make this
Sleeping (not so) Beauty an insomniac;
I cannot sleep when you're not here
and when you're not really gone either,
looking around these empty spaces
I can see the faint outlines of you
But I just want you
YOU ARE READING
Roses, Cherry Vodka & Her Perfume
PoetryA collection of (almost) love poetry inspired by my beautiful and exotic princess of a muse. (Please please please read and leave comments, I need some critics because I wanna give this to her as a present)
