“I…love…you”, and I loved you too. Your sound,
a sweet voice, excited, so happy I’ve come around.
Moans, groans and changing tones through a day,
later arguing, shouting, swearing, the good times didn’t stay.
Your Chanel perfume, I think that I can still smell,
And the over-cooked lasagne, you thought I couldn’t tell.
Left the bed but on your pillow, a scent so very intense,
that shampoo you used, strong as your porches incense.
Big warm eyes like black holes, hypnotic spirals of innocence.
A body so amazing, that she can never comprehend.
Expressions on a face, engrained so I cannot forget.
Could see you in a distance and a future, we are like we’ve just met.
The taste of your lips, your neck and your chocolate skin.
Coffee made with love and brought in, in the morning
And all the meals we shared, in all the places we dined.
Meal I have ate again but the taste I cannot find.
The softness of your skin made the satin seem so rough.
Your tender touches made my heartbeat as loud as a Kalashnikov.
Now I tread alone but with these senses I am not free.
Lying there I touched you and now you still touch me.
Sun Slimstone is a 20something year old Punjabi from Birmingham, UK. He has been writing for twelve years and sharing many of his poems online. He is currently working on his first novel. http://slimstone.wordpress.com/
