I am always cold when he leaves me.
This neglect of body and heart
which are palpable,
while the body set to be his,
willed to remain his,
acknowledging as only
the female form can I have
been found, loved and mastered.
The ache to feel him,
taste him,
touch him,
once more,
reminds me that none can be him.
That it was always him.
It was always me.
The joy of our together,
Deep and resounding,
We have made the ocean
into our sonnet.
-(c) Janelle Fallon
[image from Pinterest]
