The loneliest of lights,
from the smallest of stars,
comes on me tenderly,
illuminating the pages
scattered on the bed.
Looking through your words,
I couldn't find the answer that
I sought for so long.
Evidence of a love I imagined,
of endless images of your mouth,
kisses so gentle they felt
as if from a summer breeze.
All the pieces fit perfectly.
My hand on your chest,
your touch on my skin,
my eyes closed, lips parted
as I exhale my pleasure.
We pulled each other down,
drowning in our ocean,
an alluring death.
Verses spilled from my pen,
conjuring a reality
that fooled me.
You were my possession
only on paper,
never anywhere else.
The words are stained
by the liquid emotion
falling on the pages.
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