il est disparu

The way he touched me
made me feel like my skin was silk.
His smell,
the perfume that doesn´t come in a bottle.
His forehead is surely the softest place I´ve ever been,
babyskin they call it. I call it the need to be touched",
the urge of feel the heat of another body. 
I also call it "being Cancer".

Each date has it´s own favourite position to sleep, there is:
the "Spooner",
the "Only feet allowed" kind of people or
the "2become1" lover´s choice.
Yesterday it was chacun sa place mood. 
So the first touch in the day feels the best.
Softest. Warmest.
As taking a shower, put on your pjs and go to bed during winter time.
Like a pijama, exactly.

Your hand on my back feels like breakfast in bed.
You just don´t want it to end.
And "english breakfast" you said when I asked about your ideal meal.

We fucked.
You came.
I had coffee with milk.
And for you it was tea.
King Krule´s vinyl playing.
We said goodbye.
Chacun sa route.

Just like in bed,