Taste

The taste of fire on my tongue.

The flame of a thousands years.

Caorsing through the mind.

Wanting to diminish the flame inside.

You can't you love the feeling of fire on your body.

The body you wish to extinguish with the cooling air.

The wetness of the water.

Cooling the heat of the touch.

You're cold you want the warmth of him.

You need him.

He's your soul, your mind, your life.

He knows your spots.

He knows how to touch your body.

He's you, he's not.

He's there, but at the same time a ghost, a phantom, an essences.

Essences of the living, or the dead.

You don't know you love this feeling.

The feeling drugs try to imitate.

The feeling of being alive not a phantom.

Phantoms.

By: Stephanie A. aka Chipy