Melancholic emptiness in an empty melancholy . . .
Published on August 31, 2007 By Courageous Dageous In Writing
I miss the taste of your flesh, as I run my tongue across it, bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

I miss the warmth of your mouth as you kiss me, as your kisses descend from my waiting lips.

I miss holding your perfect breasts like two goblets, drinking deeply from the fountain of youth, the fountain of life, the fountain of desire.

I miss the way you would gasp.

Goddamit, I miss you.

I'm leaving now. Hopefully you'll come back to me.

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