That feathery touch of her fingers
dropping into a sluggish serpentine track on my chest,
and circling around my aroused nipples,
that curling toes and pressing her breasts on my chest to match our heights,
that urgency of her soft lips into mine,
that mist of her visible breath –
filling my nose with her warm, sensual gust,
and leaving her drops in my mouth,
and that urge of her tongue,
grabbing my soul,
slowly pulling it out.
I didn’t know
death could be so alive,
She shouldn’t have left me… living.