Losing Things Remember how our bodies once were thin reminders of our later flaccid skin, my paunch cupped in your lovely lap. Our liver spots co-mingle, creating a small universe of moons setting where the bed's edge collapses in shadow. A perfumed candle illuminates our illusion of youthful coupling, your taut breast, now a pachyderm, offered gladly to my unfilled mouth. And now we find that losing things rarely causes any pain, for what we've also lost, along with youth, is the need to, every time, succeed.
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