Poetry: Tepid Water

Your fingertips caress my skin

and I shiver in fear

of what this all means

as you pull webs

from my heart to take home

for display in your showcase

of conquests. I wait

for your return because I know

this will not be the last time

I see you, the last time I feel you.

You are the only one who reaches

for me anymore. Damaged goods.

Debris covered shore that no one

looks to love anymore.

Your touch is cool with years

but it is the only warm embrace

I receive, that I will receive,

until you have pulled

every last grain of me

into your depths

for a proper burial

out at sea where I can drown

in the past I will never escape.