Your body will never be another notch in my belt.

Your lips are not on a list
with others I've kissed.
And this,
is bliss.
But only a temporary fix.
Because you still leave in the morning, but only after brushing that wisp
of hair from my eyes. Once I see you, a kiss
is planted on my forehead with "love" resonating in the air where your lips
dared to speak it. And I miss
you before you've closed the door, because remnants of you are on my wrists
where you wrote me sonnets as you held me the night before. We twist
and turn into each other, hands intertwined so tight we nearly draw fists.
Fingers trailing back and forth and I wish

I could tell you how much those moments mean, and how I felt
the first time you looked at me with that gaze and held
it as you loved me. Or was I just a hollow shell
or a momentary cell,
or even a wishing well,
for you to find the man you know you could be? I'd go through hell
just to sigh and say that you're not bad, you're not nothing, you're not.. well,
you're not all the wretched things she's tried to sell
as your label.. as the notch in her belt.