You’ve told me you miss me.
Is it my kiss that you miss?
Warm blood pumping beneath thin skin?
The caressing and biting,
The movement of passion.
Do you fall asleep
With the memory of it?
The different pleasures that it has derived—
Fantasies brought forth to the front of your mind,
The feelings it sparked from inside?
You’ve said that you missed me,
And I know it’s more than just this,
But do me a favor—
Show me with a smile,
Show me with your own lips.
