Apartment 477 - The Phantom Limb

    I stanch internal hemorrhaging
by putting the inside outside;

      But I'm finding out
                that sex
          without love
      is a pantomime--

          an empty gesture.

                An open-hand slap.

Not an assault,
              but an insult.

          It's too hard to
shed the skin
        you left me in...
                    Even now, I love you
                more than I'd care to admit;
                    and so
        I curl up
                    like burnt paper
          with surrogates
        and memories
    to keep me warm--


              but it still feels like infidelity.