while the night temperature drops cold
like a cycle
they balance together
they come & they go
nature
& my lonely body yearns for an affectionate touch
i wonder if by now
have i forgotten how to kiss?
how to caress?
how to warmly hold a hand - fingers interweaved?
and how to truly, someone, love?
solitude can hurt a woman’s body
sensual dissatisfaction
leaking from the physical
and damaging my soul
drip drip drip
no touch
another cold winter night
laying on my bed
embracing myself
with my colder own
a half woman
unilateral climax
passion
for a long time
has been cut off
also, i found this post back from april 2006, title:
esta mañana
of pencil, of paper, of another sort of love
