Unraveling

I remember the softness.

A moment of downcast eyelashes,
delicate skin, smooth
and silky as my fingers brushed
along the edges of sunlight.
Comfortable,
the figure easily relaxing
into it’s natural display,
the contour of breasts
distinguished in the shadow of-
your sheets.

This is what I choose to remember.

Easy smile, gaze crisp
still so full of optimistic possibility.
When I began to run out of words to write
I started to search for them
between the arch of your back,
later finding a whole greater loss.
Such an abundance of lines,
spilling through the cracks of my ribcage
gorging to the point of mimicking insanity.
Sick with it,
this inclination toward you,
promising some hope that only exists
in the long ago past,
before desire faded from our
collapsing lips.

I still find myself
searching for you in my sheets,
twisting and curling into a mess of
failure.
Brought down to knees,
while empty spectators
began to witness my unraveling.
Hands desperately
removing cloth,
as if the fabric
was not just my own,
tugging until skin burns and scorches
from the rash of assaulted mourning.
Sinking deeply my chest,
all is lost-
watching you look past me,
What part of me could be seen?

Unfamiliar body,
the wrongness dismantling
forgotten pleasures.
Spasms of-
How much I can’t stop-

fucking wanting you back.