now you are old

A.
i loved how your lips moistened
the thin train of hair
that snakes down my belly

i loved my fingers along your spine
a blindman's hands
feeling bumps, valleys, caves, curves
conquering
caressing
worshiping

doing a line off your back
fingers eagerly pinching mounds of flesh
i reach, ache, to cup you
and you turn away

i notice for the first time: bones
so many
jutting into the landscape of your figure
protruding cold and naked from your skin

when did you become so frail?
is it the cocaine?
my cocaine?
is it the jagged scar
along your left hip
that you refuse to speak of?
is it me?
is it you?
are we damaged?

the drug makes you wet but frigid.
again.
you turn away from me.
again.
and i'm left to makes passes only at myself.
again.

leaning away from my warmth
my love
you show me your hollow back
and take another hit off the oak nightstand

in the spring we were young
you confessed to me
you had never cultivated a habit.
now the snow weights the streets
and it is cold.
you are cold.
i am tired of being cold.
look at the aching habit you have now, my love.

you've come a long way, baby.
now you are old.