The all of you

"Smell makes the strongest memory," you said.
You inhaled me and I felt the cool of the air there.
"No, taste leaves the strongest association," I said.
I savored you like a wine and drank kisses.
"You are so striking to me," you said.
You demanded I not shy from your lens.
"Your voice soothes and bewitches me," I said.
I called every day to hear it, be calmed.
"I love how you hold me," you said.
You wiggled against me and I stroked you.
"I love how it feels to touch your skin," I said.
my hands still remember velvet on curves.
The warmth of you squirms on me and pushes
back against me, snug and soft all at once.

Your voice still rings true in my dreams,
It echoes in my heart as I wake.
It never tells me you are gone,
but insists that you love me.
You always look so perfect to me there,
but I can envision no less of you.

I still taste you, your hair and your skin,
your kiss, my palate your pallet still.
You are right. Smell is the strongest.
I remember you in every ward I visit.
But I recall your musk and your perfume even more.
Your visits leave it lingering so briefly, sharply.
Like the taste of you on my lips,
the sight of you in my dreams,
your faintly echoing voice,
and the giving firmness of your hips.

I wish they would linger,
but I am grateful for the ghostly warmth of your touch,
the phantom savor of your kiss,
the echoing hint of your voice,
the beauty of you in my dreams,
And the scent of you that flees when I wake.