His Touch

His touch awoke my sleeping members.
His kiss was soft like melting embers.
It was the coldest winter in sweet December,
... I remember.

When he left it was like a broken beat,
ripped and torn, a beauty incomplete.
But truth is, he didn't really leave.
... I set him free.

He could not fulfill the one thing I needed,
What we were was never meant to be completed.
... a love depleted.

From the beginning it was a woe to start.
I ran the course with a broken heart.
But he will always be known... as my work of art.
My never lover, my in my dreams, and in his touch, marks destiny.

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