Her Taste

Tangible, I twirled her essence around my fingers
 
 A translucent force, the ghost of a memory.
 
 Long, raven hair streamed through the darkness there, yet not
 
 Indivisible from the night she dwelt in.
 
 More real than any ocular vision, she existed in the very air I breathed,
 
 Played in it, lived for it.
 
 How I could feel so much, hear every breath,
 
 When the time we’d spent together had been nothing but a feral conjunction,
 
 One that I could neither be sure of, nor truly believe happened?
 
 But in those nights since, when the moon was most diminished,
 
 I felt her even more.
 
 I could taste her, roll her around my tongue,
 
 And the hunger gnawed at my very soul.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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