no longer vivid

[from a coffee love letter – poetry]

if i had her breast for a pillow
i would never get out of bed
if her hair were in my eyes
i’d cry and arc with joy
if some sound was still in my ears
from her joyous moans
i would remember to not be lonely
but the images are no longer vivid
the ache now from emptiness
rather than friction and fire

11-10-13