I don’t want to kiss anyone else yet.
I want your taste to linger a bit longer.
I’m already forgetting your sound, your smell,
the texture of your hair.

Your touch dimmed since the start. The end.
Still, you were significant,
a reminder of something I can’t forget,
a persistent echo,
a lyric I can finally understand.
Yet another reason to become a bad poet.

-Laura Andrea

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