You have become a museum object,
ancient, like an artifact.
You are something to behold,
but never to be held.
DO NOT TOUCH
I could speak to you, let myself be known,
but I won't!
How many times in my bedroom mind
did you seduce me?
You were the North Star penetrating,
setting my soul ablaze.
You were a glacial object,
yet desire erupted within me.
But when dawn was born in the sky,
the pillow besides mine remained untouched.
Now, what are you! -- a lifeless sepia still!
As we pass each other, our old eyes meet,
you hesitate, I suspect you may place me.
We move on.
It doesn't matter.
You are not my 'you' anymore.