i long for your touch…
for the closeness
the intimacy.
my body arches to reach for you…

but when it comes..
your fingers…your lips…
they bring with them only
a shadow…
a faint print of the

a peck, where once was passion…
a squeeze, where once were lingering traces of fingertip on flesh…
a cool exchange…a stiff formality…a flickering habit.

i long for you…
to know you as you previously allowed
to hold and be held with arms
that promise to never let go.

in the end, i cling to the flickering habit because,
at least,
it almost feels like


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