When I kiss their lips, I taste yours

-The distinct taste of lemongrass and salt mixed with
new lips.

When I close my eyes it feels like 
your hands running along my back,
through my hair.

And at first I am content in my fantasy
pretending you're still here,
pretending these new hands are yours.

And instead of foreign hands counting the bones along my spine,
I can pretend it’s you planting seeds of love on each bone,
1, 2, 3, 4.
and now I’m
Drowning in your love.

But it’s not you. 
their skin feels different against mine,
their kiss not as gentle.
They don’t plant seeds of love, they sow seeds of

lust.
Seeds grow into vines that fornicate me in the arms of someone who
isn’t you.

As we lay there, our limbs intertwined-
connected in that way that is reserved only for lovers-
I can't help but think that you’re the whole ocean and they’re 
just a wave.
It's impossible to drown in just a wave.