I can't have those lips touch me again,
Those hands roam the curves of my skin.
I can't have his words, hot upon my flesh, caress me.
The way our bodies would mould, together, as light faded into dawn
His gentle fingers, so still yet moving
My racing pulse coming apart in his arms
You've held me for countless nights, countless days and still
You've wrapped your scent with mine, fingers, legs, bodies entwined.
And yet, with words so dim, barely a sound,
I say out loud, i quietly scream.
Too vulnerable, too lost, too hidden to be found.
It isn't love, is it? It isn't the crazy, passionate madness.
Love that breaks, shakes and tears.
Love that shatters, hurts and bares the truth.
And with a last look, last goodbye
Why isn't it? I wonder inside.
