I am not physical.
I am not blood, nor flesh, nor
hair you touch with velvet fingertips.
Not lips you capture with lust,
bubbling over your brain because
there is nothing left out there for you to reap.
Not skin for you to rape of warmth
for lack of heat within your own.
Not soft filth to bend at your will and cater to your
every pleasure.
Not rag doll lover nor brainless passionate,
with which to satisfy a lack of attention.
I cannot be those things for you.
Even if the depths of me yearn to be all those things...
I am what I can give to you.
To have with you the days you say you cannot bear.
To take the meals w