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 a private love- freshly sent by you.
Or maybe, one can cover a person with love, as you did; each mezmerizing rub, murmur of appreciation over my seeking skin.
In thanks, I give my body to you.
Your touches are a memory in a vacant space.
And finally, release me, and smile as I am packed away into a darkness
Where only a memory may survive.
Someday, I might return.
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