Memory

Memory

The memory of your touch
lingered longer on my skin
than your scent ever could.
Sometimes those memories are all I get by on,
sometimes all I can do is imagine us again
and again,
and doing more, going farther,
losing ourselves to the passion we both feel,
we both felt.
In those moments there was no right or wrong,
only two hearts beating in unison
and two pairs of hips,
two pairs of hands,
two pairs of lips,
intertwining,
pistoning,
striving to become one.
In those moments there was only me and you
and nothing else mattered,
and none of it was awkward or weird
not even my hair in your face
or your leg in the wrong place,
it was perfection,
sheer perfection,
and I’m living off those memories
until we can somehow find the time
to make more.