I am not the lover you once held,
a body full of dark and doubt,
hand sewn skin stretched thin
over bones
angry oceans spilling out.

I am not the lover your mind still holds,
a body made from the edges of a dream
slipping through your fingers,
to settle in the dust and bittersweet of a memory.

I am a lover you no longer know
a body full of soil and growth,
hand sewn skin stretched thin
over new flowers and undergrowth.