Her

She told me to write her a poem But I didn't want to. I didn't want to reminisce On the nostalgic memories Like tasting her lips under the clouds Or tracing the contours of her body with my fingertips Or pressing my lips against the pulse in her neck While I feel her goosebumps rising From her chest to her thighs. Her moans start to harmonize And synchronize to a realm of euphoria and Our clothes shed like snakes skin. Now we're stomach to stomach And her skin smells of lavender. Smoother than silk. Gentle kisses turning to bites, Fights from the day before Fade like gradient shades of gray. Our bodies merging into one One muted moan after the other. Don't make me remember The days we used to spend together Embracing the smile on her face And the exploding emerald fireworks in her eyes. She told me to write her a poem, But I kind of wanted to. I wanted to let her know how I felt. So I told her that the thought of her Makes me feel like I'm strapped to a cannon At the bottom of the Marianna Trench Being surrounded by demons that reside in my head. She's the only one who can Pull me from this bottomless abyss. She's the sustenance I need to survive, But she's leaving me to drown and suffocate. And she still has the audacity to scrutinize the scars on my skin, Even though the scars she left go much deeper. She told me to write her a poem. And so I did, But that's the day I watched her leave.