I remember the tossing and turning, the airless breaths- aching my body with desire. I remember the pleasure of my vexed lips whenever I'd utter your name. And while the parting sorrow of our last embrace haunts the shadows of my mind, I have yet to let you go in my fantastic memory. And still, my being mourns the loss of your stretching impression. In the way I recall old memories and their fading wisps- my blind faith had ruled me and so the one lesson you taught I hadn't learned. But now, in the warm zephyrs of my reflections I know the difference between meaning, and a lovely facade. Still, within the depths of my sorrow, all of the great beauties I have encountered since have yet compared to my devotion for you. And though I spared myself by parting in time, you still rule me- the way any beaten moth would be ruled by a flame.