I long to feel trickling warmth again near my damask thigh tops,

I stretch out my inner fingers and faintly wait to feel the current.

My mind is refused its attempts to work out cold iron alternatives,

Needling my abdomen with my knuckles I try to jumpstart my flow.

Hypothetical heartbeats make me nauseous, sick from self-loathing,

Hiding, squatting in my bloated and clot lined innards.

You managed to embed yourself deep within my panoply of cynicisms,

An emotional mugger, you blew away my disillusioned youth.

I get the impression my agony of uncertainties ends in your pupils,

And new declarations of viability could be given air.

My former unchaste droplets became a parched paradise

In the surge when our brinks of skin connected that first time.

Now I muse on potential avenues we might walk interwoven,

Bathing on the moonless pitch alone I imagine your limitless trace.

But presentiments of strange and hard abjurations fill me,

And you compound them with retorts that lack your delightful kiss.

So through my oceans I'll choke for now and pray it's just my neurosis,

The moon's cardinal cycle or the respite from our own autonomies.

You retrieved bliss that I had presumed decomposed within,

And there now, my ribs swell with a latticework of completed loose ends.