He was a sad boy
and it was even more sad how deeply
I was in love with him.

He curled up next to me in bedone night
and he cried on me.
His tears soaked through my t-shirt.
He coughed, sputtered and sobbed
as I held him, until, finally,
he fell into a fitful sleep.

I knew he was awake again
from the renewed heat and wetness
of his tears.

"I have no answers," he whispered into my neck
and I felt tears roll slowly down my collarbone.
I felt him grow stiff against me,
and he cried on me as we made love
together.

I felt his tears burn my skin.
With each tear, more of my love's
features melted away.

My love's skin dripped off,
droplet by droplet, onto me.
His tears stunned me with their heat.

As he dripped away, a rusty metal frame
emerged from under his flesh.
He grew rigid. I pushed him away
and his metal joints creaked
and his rusty skeleton
flaked onto the bed.

I was unreasonably calm as I cozied up
in the heat of his tears
in the puddle of a memory.