This is the side you slept on,
this is the pillow that smelled of you,
these are the eyes that saw you undress,
this is the thought that keeps me awake.
This the hand that came undone,
beneath the shirt that fell apart.
These the fingers that felt so dead,
ten minutes later, and on and on,
that got cramp it went on and on and
these the lips that touched to yours
were fire, not ice, like now,
that touched to you were quivering,
like my tongue, like you, like the bed.
This is the tongue I tasted with
that licked your belly-button stud
(how many had done that?
That played with your sweet one.
So this is me, who held you here,
this is the chest you lay your head on,
this is the bed I loved you in.
You are everywhere, we are everywhere,
this is the pen I serenaded you with…