I think of your hands

like they never left -
the way they explore,

not gently,

but like they know

exactly

how I break.
My skin remembers

the drag of your fingers,

the feeling of your lips,

the breath against my neck

just before you sink into me.
Distance

is a cruel tease.

I’m aching

in all the places

you once claimed.
Touch has become memory,

and memory

isn’t enough.
Come back.

Undo me again -

properly,

completely,

slow.