the touch

a gentle hand caresses
over my painted skin. a sigh
of warm, breath upon my horizon
of despair. until this moment life
felt without reason, purpose,
rhyme. but now, and yet - the moment
calls for celebration, and yet my heart
screams caution, and I cry from within
my depths; what is the meaning of this? my
deepest thoughts, long hidden and gathering dust,
my darkest secrets blown to the surface, and

I watch myself disperse the last seeds of myself;
the final cord connecting me to I. a silent word is
all it takes, and then -

nothing.