Dreaming at 4:30

I feel your kiss still,
Lingering on my lips,
As though they were touched by a ghost.
Faint reminder
Of the time we have spent
So recently.
It seems to me a dream,
This physical reminiscence,
Like sweet, morphemic torture
Which agonisingly disappears
Upon waking.
Is there something other than time
Which will return your lips to mine?
Let tomorrow come now,
For I think that I shall not survive
Another moment without your soft, crushing embrace.

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