I can taste her ink

words form the distant whispers
I want to fall on her pages

when salivating thoughts
want to pour

this is where her diary
should be a best kept secret
although tempting like
the last smoke
from a final drag
of a stressful night

these lips want to pucker
and this saliva wants to flood

I want to drench her pages
in my poetry
spitting out her verse

I want to embed her letters between my teeth
because I kept forgetting her name
that's the only way I could fathom
completing my alphabet

whilst reading I notice
her handwriting is a bit rushed
its almost as if
she was ready to put the book away
every single time she wrote about me

I am certain she knew I would read one day
since she didn't put another layer of white-out
down this time

I hope these eyes could still read her
even though her dress
was a dark page with white words
her reflection only shined in a mirror

my need is not enough
for she does not like the needy
someone else may
but to her

I am that last drive
with a tank on empty