An Entry on Loss

He wanted to look past
My body of tales,
Wrapped in cloth given
In love and jewels worn with heart.
The same body he had once wanted
With a start. No curves or soft balls of desire - no tender fingers coasting
Awake my slumberous spirit.

He must have forgotten
The time of desire, leaving it
To oscillate in imaginary shadows.
I wondered why, and wondering thus,
I moved my trunk, swaying in the
Cafe storm of long drop lights
And smoking belles. I knew
His eyes rested on one of them.

Unfolding was a sweaty scene
Of bizarre obsession, hidden well
In conversations that don't make sense:
Exchanges about people living in our heads, eating at our tables, perhaps, sleeping in our beds. I paused, but he
Didn't even catch his breath.

652 days of flesh, us wearing each
Other's scent. Gone in a flash, hurrying
Through the corridor of an untitled nightmare. Gone with the feel of skin,
Bitterness perched on some unseen building. We've lived since then. Well,
With some luck, borrowed, and peppered
To taste. Wished not for sleep, not for rest,
Not for more flesh in our palms, not for better realms of something else -
Wished only to forget.