Nights in your arms,
the world is like milk,
kisses like wine.
Memories are haunting,
leaving a bad taste in the mouth.
Saw your face on the street today,
but it was just reflection,
of guilt burning within me.
Black coffee and stale cigarettes,
that taste on my lips, nothing more
than regret. What I wouldn't do
to see you again, pass by my door.
(c) James WF Roberts 2014