Is it really remembering if it never happened. Yet somehow it's just stuck inside my head the taste of her lips on mine, the gentle sweetness of them, their softness, their form all buzzing around inside my head, trapped there like so many insects hoping to find escape. What is it about them that is so intoxicating for the body that has never known drink. I can even as she leaves the room feel her lips pulling mine to hers, like the pull of so many fiery suns who's heat they also carry. A sharp and full sweetness like a pastry filled with fruit jam the same color red as the lips they seem to imitate. Soft at first touch then firmer as I feel them pressed back into mine, the bite of ripe fruit and the taste of the flesh of it. I wish I could taste those lips, I wish I could taste them again, for the very first time.