Those moments they wander, urge and yearn
for more amidst the clouds of despair
where the memories daunt and the hope awakens.
Moments where my lips parted under the darkness
from her freckled cheeks and my mind embraced
the thoughts of distilled solitude.
My promises are no more alive neither in her claims
nor in my memories along the periphery
of her breaths that slithered over my face.
Breaths which remind me of the curves on her body
that my hands traced and the shadow of words
she swore in its curtailed grace.
Yet I hunt no more for such memories and promises
that can seek to transform my tender muses
into weapons of compassion and pleasure.
Weapons that can devote to soak my mind
in the forgotten language of love and my body
in the indelible tone of lust.
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