I want to run up that hill,
stand on the crest,
raise my arms and hands to the sky,
shouting to the world
that I am finished with you,
that I am over you,
but it would be a lie.

It would be a lie because
I still wonder what shape your face would take,
if you gazed at me,
really looked at me,
like a lover’s eyes caressing,
phantom but true
over my skin.

It would be a lie because
I still hear your voice in my mind
encouraging me, teasing me,
laughing at a shared joke,
the gentle tones comforting me
when the ravages of my mind
storm and brew in great dark clouds.

It would be a lie because
I still imagine how it feels
to have the texture of your palm
follow the contours of my skin,
the rasping of your calluses
as they cover the soft
and warm areas of my body.

It would be a lie because
I still yearn to know
what scent a fresh shower sends to my nose,
the combination of the soap you use
when it reacts to your natural pheromones,
to drown in you as I inhale
the aroma of your life.

It would be a lie because
my tongue still yearns
to lap at the hollow of your throat
processing the flavor of your skin, your sweat
to flex against you as our lips stop
pretending to belong to separate people
cataloguing your essence in perpetuum.

It would be a lie because
I still, everything still
wishes to revolve around you
to find out all the characteristics of you
that create the whole of your person
to know the truth behind what I
can only fathom from a distance.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017