Bits

Doing it bare with you
was like running over broken glass
the absolute thrill of it
would dip my soul in fire

But our world has ended
The blankets are no more
the chore of breathing has become-
A keepsake I cannot discard

The last dregs of our affair
Catch in my throat
The walls have liquefied,
and the sky has fallen
Crushing us
damning us to ashes without hope

I still do it with others,
Bare-back and raw,
So that each time
the air becomes a pungent knot,
And remember you
And our blood,now one,rung through,
dribbles onto the sheets,
Spills over the bed,
Parting the carpet,parting time:
Our blood lives on.