True Poem by Kay Gaiser

If one could sell love, I bet you could work there.
As he stacked & built your boxes, in excess, piled outside my door, I remember my chest filling with heat - freshly sent by you.
Or maybe, one can cover a person, as you did; each mesmerizing rub, a murmur of appreciation over my seeking skin.
In thanks, I give my body to you.
Your touches are a memory in an abandoned space.
And finally, release me, and murmur as I am packed away into your quiet;
Where our memory will survive. I ache;
Someday, I might return.