So,
It looks as if...
I haven't left your bed.
Your embrace lingers,
Although you're not here...
And the smell...
Like a homemade cooked meal,
Drives me towards you...
The dreams pile up on top of each other,
But the roles are always played by the same people...
The way my fingers slide on your skin,
Or your lips leave the moist of your tongue on my ears...
Hair starts to creep up and I'm alone again,
Daydreaming of when we were one...