The wound persisted On pallid and coarse skin They moved their tongues But absent was reality I clung to my imagined love without exhale The lovers dared not detach Caressed in moans My sopping dream of reciprocity And absent still, the lovers reprieve I dug my nails into your back Bent on stench Burning pus Seeping through Absent heart Words of love Carnal mess Grown to stake Roots become Blackened fingers Around our necks You, absent Only pretend