Phantom Lips

It's phantom lips I feel
And the warm rough hand of a man that cups my breast
While blunt fingertips roughly graze my nipple

When someone loses an arm
or a leg
They say that sometimes they feel
a "phantom pain"
Impossible sensations from a limb
that is no longer there
One would think the brain would be on YOUR side
being, as it is, connected to the whole
Wouldn't one?

Perhaps it finds itself unexpectedly perturbed
that its sovereign right to escape
to travel hither & yon into the ether of experience
has been imitated, duplicated, by hitherto body-bound
parts of its whole

Well, it's phantom lips I feel
Warm lips press against mine
Entreat me to open
And my lips part - of themselves - in a slight silent gasp
The breath I almost feel
escapes me instead

I can't even tell whose lips they are
that my psyche twists
so ruthlessly from the air
fraught with empty promise
But these phantom lips follow me
taunt me, tease me
haunt me
I would erase the sensation!
Could I only find something more corporeal
To chase away the spirits
That haunt me so.