"phantoms in the brain"

Where you slid behind those crimson curtains ,
(the red still hurts the eye )
where the smell of your hair still thick ,lingers,
I lay still and bereft ,memories I behold.......
cushioning me to retire into a lucid dream,
a dream alone perhaps t'was.
the senses are yet to recover from your touch
some words still unsaid , much still untouched
those days were thick with a viscous consciousness
an awakening that shall not sleep
an amorous potion perhaps, pervading my senses,
mountains , valleys and ridges and canyons
I moved the paths of meandering rivers,
yet the quest remains unquenched...
memories are the pillows I hold on to
As I fall into a stupor
phantoms still haunt me now
whither lies the cure ,
Do I need one though, am not so sure .....