healing court muse

II Senses XIII: Tasteless Memory


There is something about sipping coffee

that makes me remember you

as I type every letter that describes

how I feel for you right at this moment;

your bitterness still flows through my veins

like blood that I can never live without,

I drink you and your memories away

and watch as your name goes down

the very bottom of my message list

I can still taste you

on the edges of my lips

It has been more than one-hundred days,

my love, it’s not all the same;

you and I, we’re now just a tasteless memory.

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