With aching fingertips I trace
remembered shadows of your face,
the wordless shadow of your lips,
the world your closing eyes eclipse,
the world our ailing love creates,
the stars of our entangled fates ~~
let us cup them in our hands,
let us slip away like sand . . .

With aching fingertips I trace
a thin embroidery of lace,
a slender curvature of skin
and all it promises within,
yet unrevealed and uncaressed,
the flowered softness of your breast ~~
the petals of its secret scar ~~
a darker secret like a star.