A nightly caricature of love in the arms of strangers.
Shut my gray eyes and it
almost feels the same.

I never open my eyes
when they come near.
Ecstasy, confined
to the science of it.

Entangled legs for the sake of our skin.
Shuttered eyes and lonely fingers and
teeth and whispers and nails and caresses and clutches and kisses and
wide eyes and
shut them again.

Tired escape into the damp night,
darkness compounded as gray clouds
slink over the moon.
The night is weary, and I miss the sun.

I am weary.

Lay me down, and I
shut my gray eyes.