it is mere minutes since our parting and i am bereft at the memory of you on my lips and tongue, your smell, your sweet taste.
together, this very night, we retreated to my bedroom, a glass of wine in hand. i had hoped to savor you both in tandem. but i found that once i had you in front of me, nothing could restrain my hunger.
was it your glacéed strawberries, blushing deepest scarlet, so fresh and bright? your tender crust, crumbling delicately onto my tongue, buttery and rich? was it — dare i even mention — the sweetness of your center, a soft cream so smooth and delicate, faintly almond-scented, with traces that still linger on my tongue?
the loss of you, my love, strikes at the deepest part of me. i can only hope that this plucky little pinot noir will fill the void. i fear it never could.
i remain most adoringly yours,