I can still feel the symphony of your touch on my skin...
The pleasure I treasure helplessly as you envelope my fragile existence.
You cover me up and hold me, taking in all that I am and will be.
I relish in the feeling, not knowing that this feeling won't always be here.
So when you leave, I'm devastated, the dark and emptiness of the cold night elevated.
Like your touch isn't the premise of my demise.
The dark cold thoughts projecting it's worth upon me, just like the stars of your skin against mine.
Helplessly shivering for a worth that isn't there, your pain giving me comfort, and vice versa.
A wish that'll never be fulfilled.
Like a shooting star that found it's target.
- A.E.R.