James Nichols

We loathe the skin
and love the flesh.
Unsolicited, incidental,
invasion by any other name
finds you defenseless
without surrender
or quarter.

A day
is eternity
in love´s timeless space.
What he destroyed
I collected,
painstakingly.

Little pieces
eventually are whole.
Your flesh drifts
upon me
permeates,
assimilates,
and I realize
what emptiness
truly was.

I remain undefined
without your constant.
Love is the product
of labor
and a confluence of emotion
that inundates,
immerses me
in a warm familiarity.