Memories

A tinted red rose grazes my cheeks when I think of the time that you licked your lips after kissing me

when I asked you why, you said you could still taste me.

It was delicately beautiful and disturbing all at the same time,

beautiful because you craved my taste,

disturbing because you would rather taste the memories left behind. 

 

 

I guess I understand that though, because memories are often the best things we have.

Memories of good times soften the soul

even if those memories led up to terrible outcomes.

It’s the moment that counts.

 

Perhaps I should have realized that earlier,

and ran as soon as you told me why your tongue refused to leave your lips.

What a fool I was for not knowing that you'd leave

Or maybe, I guess,

 

I just didn't want to believe.

This poem is about: 
Me

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