Pieces of You

there's a hair,
long and curling like someone
tried to peel the sun.
it clings to my sleeve, in
a wrinkle left from last night,
one of many souveniers i
will carry with me today.

the scent of you
has worked its way into my hair,
but i only
smell you when
i turn away too fast.

my fingers keep tracing
gentle curls over
thin air, like i can
still feel
the soft smooth of your skin
warming at my touch
shifting, slipping
sweetest friction
as i worship the purest
perfection
i have ever found.

i lift your hair,
wrap it around my finger
tight enough to
make an impression
   (you press
my thighs, my breast,
   impressed my
   heart
)


Will edit later, had to get this up before I lost the words.