The Last Time

When I hugged you last time,

Did you know that it would be The Last Time.

When I kissed you last time,

Did you surreptitiously wish it were The Last Time.

When I tasted that honeyed skin of yours,

When I feasted upon that wondrous mind of yours,

I buried myself in the sins of yore,

Layers upon layers of gluttonous succour.

I was Neruda’s Cherry Blossom tree,

When you sensously chimed past me;

Withering away today to nature’s rhyme,

As it hasn’t rained here since The Last Time.

dead_tree_painted

Image courtesy: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dead_tree_painted.jpg

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