Her
I think of her,
biting her bottom lip as she whispered fare-thee-well.
I feel her,
the warmth of her embrace as we lay counting the stars.
I smell,
lightly scented roses strewn across her body.
I miss her,
desperately pouring longing into verse.
I taste her,
as lingering kisses slowly fade.
I need her,
a comforting presence dispelling the stormy clouds.
And still,
I think of her,
biting her lip as she waved her final goodbye.
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