Inches of memory.
by J.D.
As if this was not to be,
This longing for your voice,
making silence's golden hue apear tarnished.
Thinking of my past loves like placebo,
and yet you,
create adreline genuinely,
giving my heart a chase, running after me like Apollo to his laurel nymph.
Can't taste you,
But I can smell,
can't face you,
but I can dwell,
Can't I?