my senses are laced with a thin burgundy colored satin lining

your color reminds me of grapes.

No.

not the seedless, and effortlessly sweet ones.

i labored to peel off the scales

and skin

of your emotions

but you wouldn't let me.

and the sense,

the taste of my emotions on your buds dissipated into oblivion.

Never ever mattered.

like the tastelessness of a fortune cookie.

your banquet of aromas perfume my being

with the seductive undertone of spring magnolia,

with the freshness of lemon in the summertime,

with the festive overtones of roasted chestnuts in the fall,

And

the Sudden

Stillness running deep in the inexorable winter.

your touch on my buds, and mine on yours, feels like snow,

an emblem that survived within my grasp until weathered by my warm blood.

And when i hear from you,

as i seldom do,

my pelvis sways as your satin-silk-like vocal chords play the tune

of a song,

a merciless song,

resounding in my imprisoning attic of secrets called my memory,

and future memories,

reminding me of your verdict that you will never love me

Back.