Drizzled - the poetic story

Somehow yes, somehow no,

The broken pieces turned to gold,

The heart beat racing, running out of your breathe,

The touch and the warmth to be shared,

The bareness of yours, the skin and the soul,

Being exposed without even undressing your clothes,

Tracing of the fingertips, to every edge of your face,

Holding the hands too tight,

Or maybe just keeping the head on the shoulder side,

The beauty sleep of even less than couple of minutes on the lap,

Or just keeping yourself close to the chest,

Hearing the beautiful melodies as you rest,

Embracing the moment that you have,

The slow touch of the lips over the lips can be felt,

One after another, and another after another,

Yet the only thing that has been stuck in your head,

Turns out to be the last tightened hug before you left,

Not realizing it was the last moment that you had,

Before it all ends,

And goes being back to the same- the strangers again!