What is Wrong With This Tongue

What is wrong
with
this tongue ..
Every
now and again
it tends
to disobey me ..
I can
occasionally
feel it,
mouthing your
name ..
Mostly after
dark,
when we are
both so
incredibly hungry ..
Yet though
I deny it, I can
still taste
those rock pools
and the honey
of course,
you were once
famous for ..
Then later, while
smelling
of bergamot,
tansy and clover
the way you
would when fresh
from
the shower ..
I shall bury my
head in
your deep sweet
scented pillow ..
And like that,
fall asleep, albeit
fitfully ..
Until dawn arrives,
to insult
and to taunt me
again by your
cruel absence ..
Only then,
shall I curl up in
a ball like a
foetus once more
against
your soft palate ..
But barely
and briefly,
only partially sated ..