I have always wanted to ask, does it hurt?

Does it hurt when you rest your palms onto my chest;

Because in time, when my hands grow weak,

And my lips seal shut,

in time, 

You will touch your body

And feel the cold parts of yourself 

That used to mingle perfectly with mine;

And it will hurt, it will hurt like the first time I ever got to taste the inside of your mouth,

Promise me that when I burn, you will not burn with me;

For winter comes again,

And the cold leaves

Bitter memories