Receding, returning to me
More space to wish I could be
Caressing your face, brushing the bristle
with fingers gentle, lights as thistle
down. Circling your lips before we dip
In. This sin, beloved,
dreaming of love-
ing you.
I want to touch your face
Someday when this pain is erased.
Is that not in a future
rewritten? No
pain…