I wanted to miss you
with words
but my body rebelled.

Your ghost fingers triggered
murmurs and mirages
heated flesh and goosebumps
that belied truth.

You sank your teeth
into the hollows where my neck
flowed into collarbones and
quick tongue darting
soothed the pain.

I wish heartbreak came
with a manual,
easily overcome like
quicksilver that flowed, molten
through veins; lava thick

in distinct memory of sticky fingers 
and closed thighs, pressed
shut for friction
never enough.

The hollow burned 
through layers of guilt, rapt
in leaving and being
left behind.

You called me at night,
out of the blue, breathless at two
and I, I had no choice
but to answer you
and that voice
that continued to heat

burn, burn, burning want
negating logic, igniting
deep trusting and flashes of yearning
incoherent, translating
into some semblance of poetry
or maybe hate…

They say love is a passionate crime.

When was the love lost, 
I remember only being

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