The Ghost of Your Breath

Beams of soft moonlight, where shadows conspire,
I feel the ghost of your breath, a lingering fire.
It dances across my skin, a whispered refrain,
A memory of touch, etched in every vein.

Your lips, once warm, now echo in the cold,
A phantom kiss that leaves me breathless, bold.
The taste of you—intoxicating, divine,
A blend of desire and ache, an exquisite wine.

I recall the gentle brush of your fingertips,
Tracing constellations on my cheek, soft as whispers.
Each touch a promise, a map to hidden realms,
Where longing blooms, and passion overwhelms.

Oh, the ache—the hunger for your nearness!
It gnaws at my soul, relentless, fierce.
I crave your touch like a desert craves rain,
A primal need that defies reason and pain.

And so I wander through nights, seeking solace,
Chasing the ghost of your breath, this spectral grace.
My heart a compass, pointing toward you,
As if destiny itself conspires to renew.

Bring me your touch, my love, once more,
Let our bodies collide, ignite the core.
For in the ache, the longing, the silent plea,
We find eternity—the dance of you and me.