I don’t remember losing you,

only, I do.I don’t recall

the brilliant rasp of your fingertips,

the unpretentious feel

of your lips, everywhere—

only, I do.

I don’t know

the way you feel, or how you

slip and slide, and move, and breathe,

seizing, and seething, with desire—

only, I do.I don’t remember

the deep way you tread

and trade upon my body, shifting

secrets and sheets, until spent cries

escape my lips, like backward prayers

and willingly sinful benedictions—

only, I do.

I do.I do.