smokerings

hands that trace their way along the neck
along the skin, loving it, enjoying it when she
turns her head so that hands
are cushioned between a heaven and earth of soft, honey-buttery smoothness
she takes off her glasses when she talks to you as if
its another barrier between us thats gone...
even if i didnt see you
i know the smell
the taste
the texture of your skin
the exact moist, tantalising flavour of your tongue

you come alive in my imagination.

you were
always so much more
wonderful
in retrospect.