Annex

You are precious to me
in your world-weary innocence
and tremulous memory
To your youth I have
composed an elegy, and deep
in the vein of my dreams
I see you stretched awkwardly
upon brown sheets, your feet bare and cold
the scars on your legs yellow as they fade against your skin

You wear a ragged and simple nightgown
striped but bled together
from the wash and reuse
You sleep, and your breath is faintly visible
And in your fascination
you touch yourself to remind yourself
that yes, you are still alive, still able to feel

Am I the one who has made you cold? I want
you to wake up in me, and flood me
evacuate all that is unwanted and
forever burst the bombs of sweetness within