Infatuated

Sunk fast
into a river,
that I don't
know how i'll
ever be able
to get out of,
I smell your scent
on my skin,
that rustic cologne
that's been
imprinted wherever
you touched
and kneaded it
into your own
augmentation of perfection
on my skin.
I can still feel
your hands upon me,
like wanted burns
on my back
exactly where
you earlier
massaged me.
The taste of your
vodka and cigarettes
is still on my tounge,
where you kissed me
so gently,
so beautifully,
like a fish
kissing the sea
once again
after being
out of it
for far too long.
This is all
I still feel,
after your body
has left my
surroundings,
as I sink
into a reminsce
of oblivion.