The Phantom of You (Original Poem)

The fantasy of you haunts me
like flowers from a
phantom
in my looking glass.

flowersmirror.jpg

I see the reflection of who we once were,
sweet and kind,
holding each other close,
fingers traipsing along naked flesh
leaving trails of desire
in the form of
goosebumps
and shivers of ecstasy.

I see the way you held onto me,
so tightly,
afraid to lose me
to some unknown truth
you could not tell.
You would squeeze me,
pull me into your soul,
our bodies becoming one
as you consumed me in your embrace.

I see the smile on my face
when you kissed me
atop my head
and told me I smelled of coconut,
tropical and alive,
the same way
you said
I made you feel.

I see the way you held my hand
and the way you hungered for me.

I see the way you kissed the tips
of my fingers,
gently brushing them
against your lips,
very unlike the
hungry way in which you
bit and sucked
at my breast.

I see the need in your eyes
contorting your face
with a focus of purpose
I once confused for passion.
Your eyes aglow with
the red fire
of lust
as your once gentle touches
become clawing, bruising,
mauling gropes
marking my tender flesh.

I see the death of what we had
oozing, bleeding
from my womb
as you walk away
without a single
glance back
in my direction
to see if I am
alright.

And yet this phantom of you
stares back at me
hauntingly
from my looking glass,
hand outstretched
holding flowers
and an apology,
whispering of love
and things long dead
and gone.

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