A Black and White Photograph of Green, Blue, and Memories of Love

I miss those nights like that sore spot after
a tooth is set free to roam around the sewers.
when she and i would lie next to each other
smelling of the same, each other,
and being of the same and me inside of her
and her on top of me and hopefully sweat and
the panting release as our world turns grey
but our skin burns red.

night time, on a silk bed spread,
her back against my chest and i kiss
the top of her back once to tell her,
yes, i am awake and thinking about her.

she was me and with me,
but now she is there and with me here i cannot be her
and she cannot be me, only with the memories:
the hair in my mouth and the taste of her lips and
how she smiled sometimes.

like coffee flavored ice cream and midnight deserted hallways
bound by tortilla chips and cheese salsa.

one hand against sleeves over skin
tearing fabric then tossed to the floor like flaming paper embers
and when she climbs on top of me and slides me inside of her
and then i think yes, this is what we were made for, for now.
this and the rest of it.

me leading her through streets lined with people we don't care about,
only the hand that leads us forwards under the skyscrapers and maple
trees of once upon a time.

the promises we never made except with that look and the way i wanted
to plan out our good bye so each word shook through her chest,
but when the time came all i wanted to do
was not let go,
and to hug
under the morning.