Late nights,
loneliness ignites.
My hands drift
between my thighs
to a sacred place
you once knew—
touch-deprived
and craving you.
I cannot replace the warmth
of your skin against mine,
or the way I lost myself in you
when our bodies intertwined.
I can chase the pleasure,
still tremble, still unwind,
but nothing fills the hollow
you left behind.
And on the nights you creep into my mind,
I ache for your touch, your breath, your eyes—
I close mine and surrender to the memory,
longing to turn back time-
Wishing I could touch the past
the way I touch myself.
M
Late nights, loneliness ignites. My hands drift between my thighs to a sacred…
