Words sound hollow,
stretching the silence
and the distance,
like long cold blades
drawn out
with delicious near-malice.
What is left to say
to pull you back?
What is left to do
when I am here
and you are there?
Even when I am there,
Even when you are here,
when I am in your space,
inside you,
when you become my space,
adorning me with yourself,
chocolate on my skin,
and I become fully yours,
and you become fully mine,
is it enough?
Is it ever enough?