and i can still feel the warmth of the bedsheets and i can still breathe the potion of our sweat so sweet and i can still hear the echoes of our hushes and whispers hair rising, goose bumps from the awaited shivers on that quiet and brooding night we were each other's perfect covers freezing off coldness by baring, as we folded the bedsheet from our shoulders of lips meeting lips, for keeps of skin meeting skin, the unsheathing from within i am consumed by the passion and memories of last night when everything was forsaken yet everything was so right of two worlds colliding to be one until the arrival of the sun and it arrived too soon so much like the envious moon so bright, so blinding, like a supernova and my eyes opened to see a garden now a desert what was once joy now pain and hurt the soul a prisoner to romantic angst 12 minutes of desolate passion, of madness and desperation and as sweet as the memories may be as they burn from this hell my soul away they cannot turn and though because of you i have conquered death of memories so sweet and fresh-- of warmth rising from the soul to the flesh--- how i wish how i wish for this 12 minutes of anguish...to forget.