Fingers, lips and maps

I miss 

the trace,

the tickle,

the care 

as your fingers 

ran down my sides 

as if 

they were trickling through 

maple syrup 

engorged in sweetness and gooeyness. 

I miss 

the trace 

of your 

lips 

knowing their way 

around my body, 

reading me

like a well-used map 

and yet, 

you took so much care 

as if

I was the map to your world. 

I miss 

the way 

your eyes would rest upon mine 

and

occasionally

you would look at me 

like you were seeing me for the very first time 

as if 

I was the 

key to your everything.

And 

although you were my key to my everything 

and i could’ve read and adorned you forever

I was only the map to your next destination. 

And whilst that destination is unknown, 

and whilst I keep wishing 

that you could read me in the same way 

that you once lovingly did those few months ago,

the world is your oyster

and you will

soon 

once again  

run your fingers 

and lips 

down 

another map.