she was
the bonfire
flushed his cheeks
toasted warm
in the cold nights
of all the wasted youth
too stoned
to recollect all the laughs
only her cherry lips
stained on
his pea sized remain

over the years
he has searched for
the same sensation
of her dim heat
caressing his shyness
to blossom
he lost the words
to write her
into his poetry

there are memories
he cannot articulate
he cannot shake
he can only
let them be
guity of
being young
and naive