Sitting outside the porch of your flat I think of you,
And, I think of all the sleepless nights & restless days,
Those lazy noon’s of summer and passionate spring time evenings.
I think that sofa, that sits against the huge window of your balcony,
I think of how you would jump on me on that sofa and kiss me passionately,
Your lips locked against mine, your breasts pressed against my chest, my hands exploring your body,
And then how you would jump off, just as unexpectedly as you had jump in.
I think of those passionate, sex filled encounters,
I think of countless cigarette’s that were lit up, all night long with vodka,
Music screaming through your Bluetooth speakers, lit up led lights, still there from Christmas long gone & TV playing on mute,
I think of how we would let me fuck you in the balcony, hoping someone would see us and shag.
I think of how you would let me cum in you, on you, and everywhere else.
I think of how slutty you’d look.
I think of how I’d ever let you go,
I think of how and who all had fucked you before me and how no one would ever have what I have with you,
I think of your careless ways, your untidy hair, your loose clothes and your flawless body underneath them,
I think of how you would drive at night thorough those crowded streets and not utter a word…
I think of how you looked when you weren’t looking at me,
I think of how you would drink all night and still be in your senses, never drunk.
I wonder if you see yourself the way I see you,
Perfection through your flaws, love through your ignorance, peace amid chaos.
Sitting outside the porch of your flat, I think of the time, when I would lose you,
For every good thing comes to an end.
Memories, they shall be in time.
I think of what happens to the smoke of our cigarettes,
Gone, but I can still smell it, like the taste of the last puff of the cigarette on the lips.
