Aftertaste

Late night time passing, flights considered
Memories slippery through jagged glass
Edges sawing away at subjective reality
Next thing I know you're right beside me.

Who asked, who told, you let go, no I did
Up in the air along with our feet
Remaining grounded proved too much
While fighting the five senses, particularly touch.

The movements you make charm me
Wrap my consciousness up in their paper-thin sweetness
Melting on my tongue I feel it coming on...
The aftertaste of someone gone.