He sits besides me
in the darkness of my apartment,
holding the heartbreak of my hand
with the saddest eyes that I’ve ever seen –
like two puddles at risk of overflowing.
He smells like sleepless nights
and the scent seeps into my skin
the more he holds me.
It’s not the tightest of touches,
but there’s a purpose to it
that means I can’t let go
because it’s been so long since I’ve been touched
that my body is coated with longing like cobwebs
and I need a touch of something
more than loneliness.
© Keighley Perkins