so. it has begun.
the smooth cold curves leave me bereft, dreaming
of your living flesh:
where else can one find such delight in the organic?
they slip away too firmly, cruel artlessness:
resisting needy fingers,
- - -
you, you were soft and strong and warm,
friction of skin on skin and thought
on tensile thought:
your successor grants me a blurred reflection,
a constant haze obscured in distorted shadows.
no, not i, these curves know me
but we are both cold