Every intimate touch
each sensitive word
, loving intention
strangled at birth
the cold comfort
, an empty bed
room to wander, echoes
from hollowed corridors,
silent in her mind
fingertips , shunned by pleasure
drum quiet rhythms
without conscious thought
flies to the darkness
waiting in vain
for endless nights to wake
she is , and will be
a shadow , cruelly defined, true
but a vague truth,

Debris from the years
cracks as floats away
watching small details
wallpaper
without emotion
drifting off , naked,
still, almost numb, aside
the faint drum , waiting