A second I almost – A Poem

There are moments when I feel her lips

brush against mine, even though

it’s been years since I we kissed last. A phantom,

a specter, risen from the graves,

unbidden but not unwelcome.

It lingers against my mouth, this memory of a moment

of pleasure, like the soothing after taste of a cold drink

when your throat is dry.

There is a second I almost


that I am alone

in my room,

lost in a memory

that runs away from me like a wild horse.

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