Seventy Days And Sixty-Nine Nights Poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul

sometimes I lay awake
whole nights,
in the bedding that did not contain you,
counting.
Forlorn, I become,
when your body
is not unclothed next to mine,
till warm in my mouth
I can taste your memory
gently, mournfully, then with more need...
A raw figure and its caramel flow
yearning for your kisses
of soft rustling lips.
When we split, my body
like torture,
touched it again and again
not believing passion combined
but remembering every ecstatic moment.