I dreamt of friendships in the past,
of broken hearts
of dice miscast.
I dreamt of dreams I barely kissed,
the stars I reached
the ones I missed.
I dreamt of you-
my fair weather friend,
the one who vanished in the end.
I wonder how I can miss you so
and still question why you chose to go.
a kiss, a touch, a graze, the wind
sets fire raging across my skin.
not the fire of passion’s grace
but the fire of a ravaged face.
nerves read fingers and knives alike
and interpret love with increasing spikes
of headaches, throbbing, and sharp rebukes
a razor’s dance of bio nukes.
The act of love becomes a maze
paths drawn anew with the latest phase.
he never knows which nerves will measure
the touch of pain or the touch of pleasure.