I remember the shape of your hands
the brush of your hair against my skin, prickly
sharp against the tongue of my reach is a voice
unquelled by the words of soothing caresses
the fake perfume of intimacy
what does today signify? and when does tomorrow end?
believing in the continuity of now
futile, vague efforts at reconciliation
love is a mysterious creature
and I but its cause
and you are naught but its effect
we are muddled in its creation
and where, on your bed, is protection?
closing in on the open mouths of your clenched-tight intentions
I kissed it, and leave away with nothing.