Cough my name while kissing her neck
and hope she doesn't remember the time
I made a necklace of her sensative skin.

The first time we made magic she tasted like a lily humming Psalms into my rebellious heart.
I sewed the keys of my heartbeat in her spine and autographed her insides so you would understand that
the tremor in her left leg is my smile.

Each time she submits her body to you remember that
you will only be "fucking". Her moans will sound like my name in crescendos. Each octive another memory of better times.

You are a gutted hope, a more simplistic way of loving
me through my absence.

My name will make your smile self concious but do not refer to me as a bitch; it will only
remind her of how I hated to be called that
and she will text me to say "I have to train my body not to want you sometimes."

The first time you hold her she will miss my warmth, tell her you love her
until your voice no longer resembles mine.
Hide your disgust and pretend she loves you, too.

She will nervously laugh when her mother asks about me. Snake your ego around her smile and do not take it for granted; it may one day be returned to me

She does not sleep with pillows, offer your chest
and let her admire the way you are a melody within yourself while detaching herself from the cypher she found heaving in my chest so often.

Don't look in her pillow case. She hides my poems there.