Still there.

You have my fingerprints all over your skin.

 

You cannot wash them out, you cannot clean them.

 

I was there, you can still sense it in the air. My clothes are still laying in your closet, silently waiting for me to come back; and my perfume is still there, on your table, exactly where I used to keep it. You may deny it, but your house misses my presence like summer misses its sun when it is gone. You are not complete without me, my half of the bed is still empty and it cannot be filled with worthless, cheap motel girls. My laugh, my voice are still running around in your head. My lips are not kissing all your flaws anymore, but you want them to. You miss me, because I am still there, in your heart.

 

I know this because You have my fingerprints all over your skin.