walking away, I can still smell
your murder on my hands
that touch, your last breath
the only things I can still feel
lush crimson lips
parting with silent questions
smooth porcelain flesh
parting with silent motions
those shaky hands
tangled within burnt autumn hair
a scent of dead roses
tangled within cool nights air
walking away, I can still taste
your sinful desires on my tongue
that sound, your quickened pulse
the only thing I can still hear
*for June*
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