Mikyle

Sometimes i wonder: Are you out there, Somewhere, Craving the excitement That came with the light brushing Of my skin against yours? Burning low long past midnight, Slurring long past sunrise. Time passed, And so has the metaphor of you, The perfect you, That i seemed to cling to so hard. But every now and then, In a dream, or abstract fantasy, I still see your lush lips Muttering dreamy words.