Forgotten 

by Writer of Sins

I’ve forgotten the way it feels to hold on so tight you break. 

I don’t remember the addicting annoyance of long strands of her hair tickling my neck. 

I was reminded of the sensation of hot breath against my lips. 

I can no longer taste the salt of skin. 

There’s a hint of perfume on my bible. 

Sand slips through my fingers and I can no longer grasp the things I’ve forgotten. 

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