Miss The Most Poem by Butch Decatoria

It's what I miss the most,
The touch so tender yet gripped with yearning
Moist eclipse of our lips in a kiss
Electric goose-flesh, a quivering chill
Climbing up my back
From the tips of toes below
To the tip top of my skull.
Love, you lift me with a taste of morning,
Noon & Five o'clock shadows,
I miss you the most in our kiss
Audibly i moan, in such bliss,
Erection follows.

Gripped in passions burning,
Love makes a blaze
I'm afire, learning...
A real life kiss for a ghost,
After all, it's what I miss the most.