eight minutes

of my life

split up into sections of two

four minutes each

there was no speech

just me becoming one with you

it wasn't forced

i was an enthusiastic consort

but it was the end of everything

you got what you wanted

then your 'love' faltered

i didn't notice

until you were gone

that it was never really love at all

but my body

in your hands

like putty

like sand

i'll never get it back

the things i gave to you

a multitude of firsts

which only makes it hurt worse