Love Memory

With my senses in overdrive, I remember you.

A photograph not only allowed me to see the contours of your face, I smelled you. The sweet smell of masculinity; with a background fragrance of a clean white T rinsed in fresh water and Clorox.

The warm minty smell of your breath and the sweet flavor of your lips rest easy on my tongue. I could lick this picture, I think....

The darkness of your skin, your hair, your eyes, Pierces my memory like a knife; The deepest most satisfying cut I'll ever feel.

I want to relax in your voice as your baritone changes in pitch with motion of our love making.

With this, I can barely remember me, my femininity, my hair reckless, loose, sweat drenched. Un-comb-able waves I'll have to deal with tomorrow.

I find my hand wandering aimlessly to my head, to my lips, to my tongue and it will never taste the same.

I slide on the smoothness of your skin, eyes closed, and surprise myself with where I end up.

I realize where I am and know that the beauty is love, and that's why it feels so damn good. If I never have it again,....ever.....I want to thank you.

.....but it's not over yet.