Taste

I've always wondered what your goodbyes would taste like.

Your face so close to mine - where I can't see your imperfections but I could taste them.

They're made that way

He did promise me that. He said "Is that all you want?" I said "Yes." He said "I promise"

Does he still think about me? I'll settle for a glimpse, a rush, a flush even a feeling. I told him he'll think of me and try so hard to even remember what color my eyes were. I'll be just some girl and he'll speak of me in terms of sexual conquests and condom preferences.

Promises are made to be broken anyway.