The Bengali Chic

Like a distant memory,  It seems a little faded away, The warmth of the skin, And the smirk of joy on his face. How can I forget those splendid moments? The thumb pressing through my shoulders; The fingers twirling my hair; The shine in the eyes, The legs pressing my thighs.  Like he owned every inch of me; Through my skin; To my lips. Like a prolonged chain of reactions aroused, With his hands on my thigh. It's the touch of his skin; That keeps me calm; It's the warmth in his eyes, That keeps me bright. The way his lips turn into a smile, Whenever I pass by, The way his face glows up like the sky, Whenever I stand by his side. It's the touch of his presence,  Beside my body, That helps me breathe. It's his hand on my waist, That keeps me from falling.  The way he holds my hand, As we walk to my house, Like my cells sending messages, "Please don't let this die". I wonder if it's him, That I'm crazy about, Or is it his unfettered kindness, That tell...