Was You? Poem by fon tuma

I can see you but for all my seconds...
yet I know not your look.
I can hear your syllables but every day
I can see an outline, a profile
with no within; your frame
without the beat of spirit.
Lines on information's track ties
your internal entail piercing
the void, reaching for me.
Yet I cannot know your tick-tock
can barely remember the face
that exotically attracted my me;
cat-called my know then want
burning fierce. Exotically called
forth an abstract attraction, attention
an-utmost-all-focus.
Was you Persian and darked haired,
pearl skinned and almond eyed.
Was you the stark genetic strength
long-limbed, eyed blue Scandinavian?
Exotically administered to this me.
I can but see you in all my seconds,
was foxed, generally intoxicated; Was
blurred and slurred most speak.
Lightning met and fastly severed,
info lacked bites and back-bites.
You said you were Accursed Scribbler
and we in that confession were tied.
I think of 'what if' for lost hours gone,
like you and never to be regained. You,
my now, my then, my never-shall-be.