“And then there’s the sickness I feel from looking at your legs I can’t touch, or those lips that don’t smile at me. Or hips that don’t reach for me. And your heart that doesn’t beat for me.”
I looked at him with the cold glance, unable to grasp the vitality of his existence, still lost in a land that is now far and foreign to me.
The phone rang last night.
“I love you”