There is no purpose for this soft skin,
no likeness of my soul in this waning body.
This is all for you
for I have tired
of these dancing hands.
I have no pleading desire
no caustic hunger in this measure of flesh,
not a want that cannot be expressed
by the lilt in your tired voice
that echoes the curve of my hips.

08/07/2003

Posted on 08/08/2003
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