a hand mark on the window

i open a locked side of mine
- when i manage to leave my marks
when thoughts can't seem to stop


i can feel the presence afterwards

i can picture

the touch
the scent
the lines of your every line
the form of my very form

i can keep remembering
your whispers
your smell
your softness
your warmness


- when i fucking manage to leave my marks
i can
certainly
not find it easy to forget

it all
it - you
it - your hand
it - your breath

the scent
of it all.