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.
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