She asks, “What do you miss the most?”
“The kisses,” I reply, lightly running a thumb over my mouth.
“I miss the touch
of their lips on mine.”
The heartbreak, hurt.
The pain of living without them , hurts worse.
The touch of their hand on my lower back,
The feel of their body on mine.
But it’s the kisses I miss the most.
The goddamn kisses.
Kim V. Poetry 
Me too dear Kim V. Those kisses, new and so sweet. They are what the midnight poet remembered. I loved the complete poem. Thank you dear Kim for showing your skin in your words. Like Hemingway told. We must bleed to paper.
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