Five Senses

Can you feel that?

It's the melancholy pressure of the wind ripping apart your lungs,

like the ruthlessness of my nails digging a grave within your skin,

making way for this tornado of seduction and mistakes I carry with me.

Can you see that?

It's the smoky silhouette of the curves that makes your mouth water,

like the clouds of vapor your lips blow out when you dream of me,

setting the scene for this delightful solace.

Can you taste that?

It's the perfectly aged bottle of wine and young love,

with the imprint of my unapologetic tongue,

and the recollection of loneliness on your breath against her skin.

Can you hear that?

It's the echo of my voice swimming through your rusty core,

the paper airplane of comfort I threw to keep you by my side even by memory,

framed by nests of barbed wire to keep you at bay.

Can you smell that?

It's the fragrance of disappointment my absence leaves on your pillows,

the only goodbye you would ever get used to with a smile,

a cure to the mixture of sugar and bullets my existence pours all over your heart.