Some nights she's melodramatic. Sometimes she gets carried away.
The warmth I feel when she's around me drowns those memories, so I stay. When distance moves between us, and my bed feels too cold, I look to dreams and hope to see her, an illusion of her, I hold. It kills me to forget her smile, her smell and her taste, the sweetest candy, that I could never waste. But time conquers all and memories are not excluded, and so her essences becomes diluted. When ever I return, from this rambling trip, I hope her power overcomes me, with a kiss on the lip.