army green sweater
skin as frisky as leather
is there a feeling any better
than touching our thighs together?

friction and depicting
confusion from intrusion
i heard you write about me,
is that quite an assumption?

in moments gazes would meet;
masks of ice, to your eyes would shield —
is it to keep you from the seething heat
from the pits of my psyche?

with your coffee left too long in the open,
all you held was your soul and a pen.
struggling to find words to describe your sentiment
of feelings discerned with eyes so sunken.