The scent of your hair,
that sweet redolence of your skin,
the warmth of your touch,
All that was left behind while we rubbed against each other;
Your smile in my eyes and your kisses on my lips,
your tongue playing twister inside my mouth,
your teeth marks on my chest, my neck, my shoulders,
all that was left behind the day I was last inside you;
That tingling in my skin that was left behind by your fingers tearing into my flesh.

I tried washing it all off but it sticks like the slime on a newborn,
and I try to scrub it off but it seems to etch deeper into me,
and I try to tear it off, sink my nails in and rip and shred,
only to see pieces of you fall out from under my skin
crawling-frenzied like a million fucking roaches
free from my body at last breathing fresh air;
The stale monotony of love disappearing with the light
on their faces while I writhe in pain as I watch myself wither
and erode and fall into pieces of you, and I realize,
we are the same, you and I,

By: Viraj Belgaonkar

Pen it... or aaa type it. u know what i mean.

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