Memory

Memory

The cream of your skin
under my hands, my flesh turned forge fire
under the trace and rasp
of your fingernails
over my shoulders,
your thighs and the high tension wire lines
of muscles flexed
and the shudder of gasped breaths
and your taste like sparkling
wild honey on my
tongue.
These memories are etched
into me like acid
tracings on metal,
like wax spatters
dripped down candelabras
like the sound of my name
from your lips, breathed soft
and I will not forget.