I taste you still <br />on my lips <br />chapped from <br />your sudden <br />bite <br />Rubbing ointment <br />over the <br />wound <br />It helps somewhat <br />but somehow <br />your taste <br />is still <br />with me <br />I hold you <br />and yet <br />it is only <br />in <br />shade <br />Forsaken pleasure <br />in memory <br />Forgotten <br />seconds etched <br />like burning coals <br />over my <br />lips <br />Sometimes the <br />remembered <br />pain is <br />better to keep <br />then is the reality <br />of holding you<br /><br />Chris G. Vaillancourt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/chapped-lips/
