i pose you, floppy as a doll, as an unfinished sentence,
in both shadow and light. your legs twist in shapes i can
only call secrets, whispered as they are, soft as they fall.
behind the lens, i outline your curves and make you sad
so that i can love you.
you are not real and i cannot touch you.
the glass between us moves with your breathing and you close
your eyes and wait and i see that it is not you at all.
i love the color your skin makes against the air, i love the
nostalgic scent in the way your knees bend, i love the water
of wood underneath your thighs. i love the weight you give.
i love the space that is not you.
i love the lonely that misses you.
i love the pillow that hugs you. i love the lamp that kisses you.
i love the eyes that see you. i love the idea that made you.
i love the time before you.