by Rena Kermasha   Your ghost twists around my body. Impregnates my thoughts. Fervor flows to my every tip. Stirring me to succumb. I recognise this precipice. I know how to defile it. I want it to infect me. I trace the marks you leave. Exploring the memory of your touch. Gasping from this quest. Waiting for the conclusion. My mind drifts to adventures we had. That was the mistake that I made. And sadly it is this grief. That moves me toward completion. In abandon to the pinnacle. That at last enraptures me. My failing friend, It is only what you did in bed That saves you from my loathing you. In all other respects, You are nothing close to what You want to be.