Sitting on his lap,
I caress his wrinkles.
The sprinkles of rust
That line his skin.
They tell a story,
Only I can see.
Of how the boy he once was,
Became the man of my dreams
His vessel has withered
But his soul shines through.
The crow’s feet that linger,
Round his baby blues.
Time seems abundant,
Until it is not.
I kiss him with passion,
And savour his rot.
I don’t know how much,
Of his love is left.
I tear off his clothes,
And take him to bed.
He enters me lightly,
And kisses my lips.
I squeeze his buttocks,
Enveloped in bliss.
He fills me with love,
warmth and life.
He worships my beauty,
my curves and my light.
And just as a day,
must turn into night.
Our perfect love,
turned into goodbye.
