I am lonely,
he breathes into my neck
and my skin sucks it up like it is good for me.
I know, but—
before I could finish,
I let him melt into me.
I mold his body into a shape to fit with mine
because at this moment, it feels right,
like this is where we are supposed to be.
But he knows too much of me and
I don’t know his secrets
the way I know his flawed, naked body.
He comes halfway and leaves just the same.
He becomes shapeless in my mind
the way all past lovers do after they’ve had enough of me.
Something about this feels like closure.